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Chapter thirty-seven

Nerys

T he Kor’yitz’s salon at night was like being in a perfume bottle, overwhelming every sense to the point of suffocation. The decadence. The haughtiness.

The stakes.

“Had enough, My Lady?” a female Supreme Land Holder asked, shaking the dice cup, the distinctive rattling sound cutting through the din.

“Never,” Nerys said with a sly smile.

“There will be time to stop, My Lady,” Qiana said to her, grinning. “But that time is not yet.”

The Supreme Land Holder nodded in agreement and tossed the dice onto the table.

190 The board was etched with elaborate symbols, each one crucial to the rules.

They were playing a game Nerys learned at the lodge—and frequently lost. But gambling was a necessary evil at court.

The tables were where reputations were made. And ruined.

Though Nerys was having a quiet night compared to others in the room.

The furniture, as was so common in the palace, was covered with velvet or brocade and often accented with gilt wood—and likely cost enough to buy a prize horse.

The furniture was strewn with courtiers, many of them sitting two to a chair, the more brazen of them…

Well, Nerys wouldn’t stare. No one else did. Somehow.

Nerys watched the bone dice roll to a stop, revealing she had lost. Again.

The players broke out in laughter and congratulations, and took the opportunity to indulge in their drinks, a dark red wine or dark liquor in delicate crystal goblets.

May as well join them. The wine helped her forget that it was difficult to breathe—the promenades, perfumes, and tobacco clouded the air.

She was bracing herself for yet another round when a voice sounded behind her. “My Lady,” Jesta said, “if your game is done, may I steal you?” Her blood-red eyes shone even darker in the muted light, nearly matching her black robes.

Nerys turned to Qiana, who nodded permission. “Of course,” Nerys said, moving her chair away from the table. “You’ll spare me from embarrassing my guardian further.”

“Embarrassment?” Qiana said. “No—consider this education.”

“This is only the first of many nights,” the Supreme Land Holder said, adjusting one of the keys—yes, keys—that had come loose in her wig. “There will be plenty of time for you to learn how to play with us.”

Nerys said her respectful farewells and left the table, following Jesta to a small couch in a secluded spot in the room, one that was somehow unoccupied.

Here the light was even dimmer, the crowd—and couples—seemingly far away.

The Kor’yitz was on the opposite end of the space, holding court with her closet friends.

This was a perfect couch for assignations.

Or gossip. Nerys made sure to check that the seat was dry before sitting, for several reasons.

Now, what did the Resurrected want?

“I wanted to save you,” Jesta said with a conspiratorial grin. “I can’t imagine gambling with an audience is pleasant.”

“What do you mean?”

Jesta nodded towards a group of young nobles who kept turning to them and then murmuring to their companions. “Ah,” Nerys said. “Them.” The ones who watched Nerys as if she were both a predator and prey, an intruder and a potential victim.

“You know, I have to admire them.” Jesta adjusted her long black skirts.

“Not many could manage to spend so much time weaving food into their hair. Do you think it’s because they need a snack?

” One of the young women in question had fresh cherries in her wig and another seemed to have a stuffed quail, feathers and all.

Nerys bit back a laugh. Oh, the irony that one of her favorite people at court was dead. “At this point, I’m surprised no one has tried plucking every hair off their heads, just to be contrary.”

Jesta laughed. “That would be a fashion I wouldn’t miss. You could be the first.”

“No thank you.”

Their laughter died down as a stern older woman wearing gray approached Adelyna. The two spoke, and Adelyna’s face fell solemn. What was going on? Nerys restrained herself to stay in her seat—the Kor’yitz didn’t need a peasant to help her .

“Vinay,” Jesta mumbled.

“All day?”

“No.” Jesta shook her head. “ Vi nay. The Jeliani ambassador.”

Nerys looked back and forth between the ambassador and Jesta. “I take it that you two are not dear friends.”

Jesta snorted. “Hardly. She’s trying to destroy my home.”

“How?” Nerys fidgeted. “Apologies. I didn’t learn much about politics at Cow’s Fancy.”

“Is that really the name of your village?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Pity.” Jesta checked the positioning of her braid and said, “Pelia and Jelia haven’t fully reconciled since the last war. And it seems we will be fighting them again soon.”

“And, um, Ca’mail is supposed to be allying with you—Pelia.”

“Indeed. We have a marriage alliance with the Yitz’mal, and one that cannot come soon enough, considering the age of our king. Transitions in rule are always a difficult time, even in the most stable monarchies.” Jesta’s eyebrow crept up. “I thought you didn’t know about politics?”

“I don’t. But the court loves to talk about marriages.

Especially royal ones. By this point I know too much about the wedding.

Like the music. How could music cause so much division?

I heard that the first choice for violinist had a carriage accident and it’s been a battle to find a replacement.

And I heard rumors that it wasn’t an accident. ”

Jesta chuckled. “Oh, just wait until the bride arrives. Her underclothes will be the gossip of the week.” She sighed.

“Well, that gray biscuit can talk to the Kor’yitz all she wants.

The marriage is set. Ca’mail is our ally.

” Nerys had no idea whether or not this was true, or if it was a bit of political wishful thinking on Jesta’s part.

Nor did it matter—once the R?ll was dead, Idris would be her only concern.

Idris… How long had it been since she had seen him? Too long. Her heart skipped at the thought of seeing him again. Touching him. Feeling—

“Never trust a Dream Walker,” Jesta said, picking at her skin. Her rather rubbery skin, now that Nerys had a chance to inspect her.

“Why?” Nerys blinked hard.

“They plant ideas. Steal secrets and memories. A lot can be done in someone’s mind. Even with dreams.”

Nerys paused. “It sounds like you’re speaking from experience. ”

“From Pelia’s experience, yes.” Bitterness crept into her voice. “They say dreaming is like death. They’re wrong.”

Nerys hesitated before asking. “What is it like? Death?”

Jesta’s eyes twinkled. “Do you want to know?”

“Maybe. Unless it involves something dreadful. Then I’d rather not since I’ll have to go through it regardless.”

“Well—I have no idea, so I can’t tell you.

Honestly.” Seeing Nerys’s confused expression, Jesta continued, “Once Resurrected, we have no memory of our time on the other planes. It’s lost, or those of us with eyes of blood never have a true afterlife in the first place.

” She shrugged. “Sorry. Sight Bearers know more about actual death than we do, with your, you know, sight.”

“Even we don’t know,” Nerys said. “The Dahlk say there is paradise with the Living Gods, but some souls get eaten—”

“I wonder what they taste like. A soul.”

Nerys stared at Jesta. “I couldn’t tell you.” 191

“Well, at least you have a demon. You do, right?”

Damn—did the entire court know about her and Vine?

“Yes, I do.”

Jesta looked her over, as if Vine was sitting on her lap. “Is he bound?”

“I hope so.”

“And you don’t think it’s cruel?”

“…Why would it be?”

“The binding.” When Nerys didn’t respond, Jesta said, “Don’t tell me you don’t know.”

“My learning was short. And deficient in several respects, it seems.”

“That’s horrible. Well, I may as well tell you—if you die while bound to him, he is still bound to you.”

“So? ”

“No matter where you go. Paradise…or elsewhere. Your demon will go with.” Jesta looked over the crowd. “I can’t imagine it would be pleasant for the demon. Or the soul, probably.” 192

Good thing Nerys wasn’t doing anything that could get her killed anytime soon. Oh, wait. Yes. Yes, she was.

“For not knowing even that basic knowledge about your bond, you’ve managed to wield him well.”

“What? Wield ?”

Jeta leaned towards her. “With the Kor’yitz. I heard he saved you.”

“He did, yes…”

“You told him to. Right?”

“Um…” Nope. Nope she did not. Not really.

“You mean to tell me,” Jesta said, disbelief writ across her face, “that a demon—on his own—protected you.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to be bound to me and go to…wherever we go.” Nerys wasn’t about to allude whether or not she would be qualified for paradise. It was doubtful that she was.

“That doesn’t stop most demons. They know they will never be free, so why should their master enjoy them? Mark me—your demon did the unthinkable. He actually saved his master. Willingly.”

Was it true? Was Vine saving her really that unique? And was he condemned to…wherever because of his tie to her? But he tried to trick her at the lodge—even if he did act unusually in saving her, she couldn’t trust him.

At that moment, Qiana turned around and motioned to Nerys through the crowd. “I’m sorry,” Nerys said. “I need to go back.”

“Of course. I look forward to talking to you again soon.”

With that, Nerys took her leave of Jesta and returned to Qiana. On her way she caught Adelyna looking at her, seemingly watching her before she even noticed. And then the heir gave her a warm smile.