Page 131 of House of Dusk
“What about the plan?”
“Plans change. I’m still going to confront my father. I don’t need the Fates to speak. I’ll use my own voice. And I’ll make him listen. I’ll make them all listen. No matter the cost.”
Yeneris’s fingers froze against the smooth knob of a femur. The cost? What did that mean? She searched Sinoe’s face, but found only calm resignation. “You once told me you’d seen your own death. It wasn’t a joke, was it?”
Sinoe’s lips tightened. “No.”
Something inside her cracked. “What did you see?”
Sinoe cupped a tiny fingerbone in her palm, staring at the fragile thing. “I was wearing a veil. There was...fire. And a dagger.”
A dagger like Lacheron’s god-killing blade? Yeneris was no sibyl, but her brain was more than capable of casting up terrible visions of the future. Sinoe, all her golden glory spilled across cold stones, a pool of dark blood leaching away that vivid, precious life.
A boulder clogged her throat as she watched Sinoe tuck the fingerbone carefully into the box. “There. She’s ready for you to take her to your people. Goodbye, Yen. Please don’t try to stop me.”
She could, though. Easy enough to sweep Sinoe into her arms then and there. Carry her off to the stables and bundle her onto the swiftest horse and get her as far away from this doom as possible. Safe as a caged ailouron. Yeneris swallowed the boulder, and her own fear. “I won’t stop you. But I’m not letting you walk into some Fates-damned future alone. I’m coming with you. Hura can take the kore to Mikat.”
“No need for that,” said a cool voice from outside.
The palanquin’s curtained door was flung open, revealing Mikat, sword in hand, a look of cold determination on her face. “We’ll take things from here, Yeneris.”
CHAPTER 36
YENERIS
Things did not look good. There were at least six other Bassaran agents spread around the street. They had pressed Hura and his people back against one of the nearby walls.
“Yeneris, you’ll take the sibyl,” Mikat ordered crisply. “We don’t have much time.”
That was true. So the sooner they finished this, the better. Yeneris took a breath, then drew her sword. She stepped carefully and deliberately out from the palanquin, setting the bare blade between herself and Mikat.
The other woman backed away slowly. A she-wolf challenged for her prey. “What are you doing?” Mikat narrowed her eyes, looking past Yeneris.
Sinoe had followed her. She stood on the palanquin steps holding the reliquary. Yeneris licked her lips, making her voice firm. “You can take the kore, Mikat. But not the princess.”
“And how exactly do you plan to stop me?”
“I don’t need to stop you. That gold bangle on the princess’s wrist will.”
Mikat’s lips pursed. “You have the key. Open it.”
“I can’t,” Yeneris said. “There was another ward on the kore’s bones. We used the key on that.”
“How unfortunate.” Mikat shook her head regretfully. “A true sibyl would be invaluable in restoring Bassara.”
A thread of relief began to unspool in Yeneris. Mikat believed her. Maybe this wouldn’t all go to the abyss. Maybe—
“But if we can’t have the sibyl, we will not let Hierax continue to wield her power.” Mikat lifted one hand, gesturing toward Sinoe.
Instinct threw Yeneris into motion, sword swinging even before she was aware of the distanttwang!
Her blade caught the arrow, slashing it out of the sky. The reliquary clattered to the stones as Sinoe jerked back. “Go!” Yeneris shouted at her. “Get inside!”
She turned, holding her position before the door, heart thudding, body fizzing with tension, every nerve on fire now. The cedar chest lay abandoned on the street before her.
“Think very carefully, Yeneris.” Mikat’s voice was harsh, but not cold. “Remember who you are.”
Even now, she did not want to disappoint Mikat. The woman had saved her life. Saved her spirit. Given her something to hold fast to, when everything else in her world had crumbled. Emotion gripped her throat as she remembered a warm blanket, tucked around her skinny shoulders. The few, precious smiles. The feeling of belonging to something—to someone—again.
