Page 73 of House of Dusk
CHAPTER 20
YENERIS
Yeneris did not trust Sinoe’s brightness. It was a mask, like the paint that had taken three handmaidens an hour to brush onto her face, turning her creamy skin a cold ivory, her lips blood red, her eyes enormous, rimmed in kohl with a single blue tear marking each cheek.
“Will you be scrying?” Yeneris asked softly as they made their way along the path of heroes, watched only by the golden eyes of the statues. It was the first time they’d been alone in nearly a day. Two servants trailed behind them, but neither was close enough to overhear, and they were fully occupied pushing a handcart that held a boxy shape covered in a rich gold cloth. Faint keening noises came from within, and the rustle of feathers. Sinoe had ordered that Tami be brought along to the hawking exhibition, but clearly the ailouron was not pleased with her current situation.
Neither was Yeneris. The last thing she wanted right now was to be surrounded by Helissoni. She didn’t blame Sinoe. It was Lacheron—and potentially Hierax, though the full extent of the king’s involvement was unclear—who had twisted the sibyl’s prophecies. Used them to excuse the war that had destroyed Bassara. She knew Sinoe regretted it. But Yeneris had too much fury in her now to bear Sinoe’s guilt.
Yet Sinoe had promised a way into the south wing. Yeneris couldn’t afford to let that opportunity pass.
“No,” said Sinoe. “Father just likes to remind everyone that he commands the voice of the Fates.”
“Does he?” Yeneris asked. “Command you?”
Sinoe glanced back to the veiled cage as Tami gave another piteous protest. “Sometimes. But don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten what I promised. I’ll find a way to get you to the kore.”
They walked on. The beaded hem of Sinoe’s gown chimed softly. A gentle sound, but it rankled Yeneris’s nerves, especially in counterpoint to the caged ailouron’s keening. She would have pressed Sinoe to tell her the plan, but they had just emerged onto the open green where the hawking exhibition was taking place.
Sinoe was her usual smiling, sunny self once they joined the crowds gathered on the southern lawn, flitting between groups of Helissoni worthies in their garishly vivid tunics and gowns, reminding Yeneris of the hummingbirds she’d watched in her grandfather’s garden as a girl.
Yeneris followed Sinoe’s flight, skin prickling in spite of the clear blue sky, the brightly striped Scarthian tents, the heaps of soft pillows and jewel-colored carpets, the tables full of honeyed nuts and cheese tarts and roasted lamb. There was an edge to Sinoe’s brightness. It was honed too sharp. Yeneris saw that sharpness whenever the princess glanced back toward the cart. The servants had drawn it onto the green, but halted along the edge. Waiting.
There were people all around. Even so, Yeneris leaned closer, murmuring, “Princess? What’s wrong?”
Sinoe turned to her, hazel eyes swimming in the dark ring of kohl. But she didn’t respond, only gave a small shake of her head. Then the mask was back, her smile hooking into place as she fixed on a stranger walking toward them across the grass.
He was tall, with deep brown skin, merry eyes, and a tumble of black curls that somehow managed to look more artful than messy. Judging by his dress, he was Scarthian. Only the northerners wore trousers like that, and in such striking geometric patterns, like bits of a language that her mind was forever at the edge of understanding.
Yeneris retreated a few paces so that Sinoe could greet the man. Which she did with considerable affection, flinging her arms around him and giving such a sincere cry of joy that Yeneris wondered whether she had just imagined Sinoe’s earlier disquiet. “Hura! I didn’t expect to see you back until fall!”
The man, Hura, laughed, returning the embrace. “I live to surprise you, Noe.”
Noe?How well did these two know each other, exactly? Not that it was her concern. Sinoe could hug whomever she liked. For as long as she liked.
But Yeneris was not the only one frowning at the princess and the young man. Several of the nearby Helissoni guests had also taken notice. The man’s glance slid past the princess briefly, taking in the disapproving looks, and some of the brightness faded from him. He pulled gently back from Sinoe, still smiling, but more reserved. He dipped his head.
Sinoe seemed to catch the shift in tone, drawing herself in, speaking more formally, “And how is your father?”
“Very well. Very pleased with himself for negotiating a new trade agreement with the Idrani. And they’ve finally finished work on the temple. Urabas feels like a true city now.”
A thrill quivered through Yeneris. She knew that name. Urabas had been part of the old empire, though it was only a small trading outpost even before the cataclysm, eclipsed by Bassara in size and population. But it had been growing in size even before the war. Afterward, it was one of the few places where those who had escaped Bassara could find a refuge. Mikat scorned them.If they were true Bassarans, they would be fighting for our home, not casting up some pale shadow.
Yeneris understood who Hura was now. She ought to have guessed. Now that she knew what to look for—to listen for—it was clear as the bright blue sky above. The sharpness at the ends of some words, the edges she had so carefully filed off her own voice. He might be wearing Scarthian garb, but Hura spoke with the traces of a Bassaran accent. He must be Ambassador Opotysi’s son, the one Sinoe had spoken of, who was both Scarthian and Bassaran. And a friend of Sinoe’s as well. It made sense. Yeneris forgot, sometimes, that Sinoe also lived a doubled life, Helissoni and Scarthian.
“Is your brother here?” Hura was asking.
Sinoe arched a teasing brow. “Am I such poor company? I should be insulted you can’t go five minutes without asking about Ichos.”
Hura seemed flustered. “You’re excellent company, of course. I only wondered...that is...the prince is an admirable sparring partner.”
“Mmm. Yes, I’m sure he is. He’s very good with his spear,” said Sinoe, giving Hura a wicked smile.
The ambassador’s son choked, cheeks darkening. “And how are things going with Tami?” he asked, clearly eager to change the subject.
He succeeded. Sinoe’s mirth melted, leaving only a stony sort of resignation. “She’s lovely. Adorable and fierce and—” Her voice quivered. She drew in a breath, and the next words were harder, sharper—“I can’t keep her. I’m returning her to your mother today.” Sinoe nodded toward the covered cart at the edge of the field.
Yeneris stiffened in shock. Sinoe had given no hint of this earlier. She had let Yeneris believe she was bringing Tami to fly her in the exhibition. Not to banish her. And as little as Yeneris cared for the destruction of her tunics and the piercing sharpness of the ailouron’s claws, she knew how Sinoe loved the silly creature. And how the beast loved her in return. She couldn’t possibly give Tami back.
