Page 72 of House of Dusk
“That’s it?” Yeneris scoffed. “Three sentences. That’s what sent Hierax to war? To destroy a city?”
“There’s another note,” said Sinoe, reading on. “A new name. And new memories. Remember that. All she is now is a tool. A way to claim what I need to finish this, and end the tyranny of the gods. Very well. I will wait if I must. But Hierax will not. The man is desperate for legitimacy. So. We will give him his bride. One maid is as good as another, and my allies will feast well.”
The scroll hung like a long pale tongue, silent now. After a long moment, Sinoe began to roll it up again. She did not look at Yeneris.
Yeneris had been angry for years. She’d held her fury close, turning to it whenever the training seemed impossible, on the dark mornings when she’d risen before dawn to meet Mikat, driving her body to become a sharp and deadly thing. It was a constant, steady burn, familiar if not comfortable.
What she felt now was something new. A flare that shook her, set her limbs trembling, made her want to crash out into the hall and murder every single person who stood in her way, until she found the king and jammed every one of her seven blades into his flesh.
“One maid is as good as another,” she repeated, the words snapping out of her.
Sinoe flinched. Her fingers tightened on the scroll, crumpling the smooth parchment. “Yen, I—”
“Don’t apologize. It wasn’t you.”
Sinoe let out a single soft sigh. She shoved back her shoulders. “So what can we do?”
Yeneris began to pace. This was the downside to training her memory to record every detail. The words were inked into her mind now, a jumble of clues, fragments of a larger picture she could not see.You don’t need to understand the whole story. You only need to play your part. Rescue the kore.
She tensed and relaxed her muscles, limb by limb, a small ritual Mikat had taught her to center herself. Sinoe watched her, waiting, wounded, wanting to do something to help.
So give her something to do. Use her.Yeneris could almost hear Mikat’s orders.
She licked her lips, then spoke. “You were right about Lacheron, princess. He’s been manipulating your prophecies all this time. Using them for some purpose of his own. But we can set things right. The Fates can guide us.”
A faint relief bloomed in Sinoe’s face. “Yen, I—yes, I want to help. I want to fix this.”
“Can you get us in to see the kore’s bones? Alone? Without your father?”
Sinoe frowned. “Why?”
“You could do a scrying.” The lie slid off her tongue, leaving a bitter taste. But even now—especially now—she couldn’t risk the truth. Sinoe was the key to the kore. “You said you want to fix this. Maybe the Fates will show you how?”
Sinoe nodded slowly. “Yes. There might be a way.” But her lips had an unhappy twist.
“Is it dangerous?” Would it matter? She had to do this. No matter the cost.
“Not dangerous. Just...” She shook herself. “I’ll do it. The day after tomorrow. Ambassador Opotysi is hosting a hawking exhibition. I can arrange it then.”
So that was it. Sinoe had agreed. There was no need to demand any other details. Or to worry over the shadow in her eyes.
Clack.
They both turned toward the bronze gate. “What was that?” whispered Sinoe. She started to step forward, but Yeneris caught her elbow.
“Wait.” Heart thudding, she lifted the small oil lamp. The single thin flame had been bright enough when they were using it to read the scroll. Now it seemed such a small thing, so easily snuffed.
The thin fingers of gold light reached through the bronze bars, only barely scraping the darkness on the other side. Nothing moved. But the air felt thick, oppressive, heavy with a whiff of rot.
Something glinted, deeper in the shadows. A reflection of the lamplight? No, it was the wrong color. Almost purplish.
Yeneris thought of the ghouls in the necropolis with their bruised eyes. Of her swords slicing them, only to spill out more and more shadowy tendrils. Flame was the only thing they feared. And all she had now was an oil lamp with a flame no taller than her thumb.
“We should go,” she said.
“Yes,” agreed Sinoe. They began to retreat toward the door. Yeneris’s eyes burned from staring into the darkness. Every muscle quivered. The door creaked open, letting in a draft of clean air. The throbbing in Yeneris’s head lifted. She pressed Sinoe outside and slammed the door. The lock clicked shut and they fled together down the hall.
Behind them, from inside Lacheron’s workshop, came a low, hungry howl.
