Page 15 of House of Dusk

YENERIS

“G ood,” said Hierax, with the fierce attention of a man biting into a bit of choice meat. “Lord Lacheron, you and Prince Ichos will see to it. It’s time the fire witches made themselves useful.” He swept his gaze back to Sinoe, still cradled in her brother’s arms. “You’ve done well, daughter.”

Sinoe’s eyelids fluttered. She mumbled something.

“I’ll take her back to her room,” said Ichos, hefting her more tightly against his chest.

“No, Ichos,” said Hierax. “You have other work.” He nodded toward the prisoner, slumped in the grip of the two soldiers at the edge of the room. “I promised he would die screaming. You will keep that promise.”

“But Sinoe—”

“The girl will tend to your sister.”

It took Yeneris a moment to realize that she was “the girl.” She tucked the golden potion away, then stalked over to Ichos. The prince had gone ashen, lips bloodless and tight. The look he gave Yeneris could have turned her to stone.

But he had little other option. Nor did she. Yeneris thrust out her arms, her throat dry.

“I expect you to take good care of my sister,” said Ichos, his voice a threat and a promise.

“She’ll be safe with me,” said Yeneris. “I swear it by the Fates.”

Something seemed to shiver in the air between them, over Sinoe’s red-gleamed hair.

Even Ichos appeared to feel it, lips parting slightly, as if breathing in the vow, tasting its truth.

You fool , she told herself. What was that?

She had no business making any such promise, especially binding it by the Fates.

But the words were out now. Spoken. And they’d done their work.

Ichos pressed Sinoe into her arms, a soft bundle smelling of smoke and honey and just slightly of fish sauce.

Yeneris clenched her jaw, keeping her expression stern, trying to ignore the tickle of Sinoe’s hair as the woman nuzzled into her shoulder with a sigh. Ichos tucked a trailing fold of Sinoe’s borrowed cloak more securely around her.

“I’ve given you a task, Ichos,” said the king. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

The soldiers dragged the prisoner forward, into the center of the hall. Yeneris had one last glimpse of the prince’s face before he turned away. Pale as ash, with a terrible resignation in his eyes.

Yeneris retreated for the door. The screams began just as she quit the room.

· · ·

Yeneris hovered outside Sinoe’s bathing chamber, debating whether to knock again.

The princess had awakened soon after Yeneris carried her over the threshold of the royal apartment, and had retreated at once to the bath.

The last time she’d knocked, Sinoe had told her to go get some sleep, by the Fates, that she was perfectly fine.

That had been a quarter hour ago. Warily, Yeneris pressed her ear to the heavy mahogany, but heard only splashing within, punctuated by deep ragged breaths.

She’ll be safe with me. I swear it by the Fates.

Stupid. Utterly stupid. Far worse than the legend of Khorven the Lovely, who had foolishly sworn to give his heart to a jeweled incarnal, who had unfortunately taken the promise quite literally. Vows were not something to toss away. Vows meant something.

Yeneris had sworn only one other vow in her life, on the night Mikat had taken her, blindfolded, along a series of twisting alleyways so labyrinthine she thought they might have wandered into the netherworld.

When Mikat had pulled the cloth from her eyes, there had been two other people waiting, faces lost in shadows, voices sharp and clear.

Do you commit yourself to our cause? Will you do whatever it takes to preserve a future for our people?

There had been no hesitation then, either. Maybe that was the way of true vows. They sprang from your heart, from your lips, as easy as breath. Let the Scarab herself bear witness: I swear I will set the kore free.

Two vows. And for now, no conflict between them. Both served her mission. But what if that mission changed? Should she tell Mikat that she was compromised?

No. Because she wasn’t compromised. If it came down to it, she would choose Bassara. She would choose her mission, and let the Fates curse her. She would pay that price if it meant ensuring a future for Bassara.

Resolutely, she turned away from the door.

A shriek came from the shadows near the window, followed by the rattle of claws on metal. Yeneris halted, scowling at the caged ailouron. The creature glowered back, her hawk eyes bright, her feline tail lashing. Golden wings mantled a challenge.

“What, do you think you can do better?” Yeneris growled.

Though honestly, if she weren’t half convinced the ailouron would scratch her to shreds, she would have let it loose.

The princess might welcome the bird-beast. In spite of its wild ways, the ailouron always gentled for her.

Probably because Sinoe insisted on slipping it tidbits of every meal, doting on the creature, even naming it Tami— honey , in the Scarthian tongue—with not a whiff of irony.

Sinoe’s heart was too soft for her own good.

Tami keened again. Her baleful stare seemed to flay Yeneris’s skin.

She gave in, turning back, rapping again. “Princess Sinoe? Are you sure you’re all right?”

A splash. A sigh. Then, “Go to sleep, Yen. I’m fine.”

“I swore to your brother I’d see you safely to bed.” Not entirely true, but close enough. Who knew what trouble a woman like Sinoe might get into, alone in a bathing chamber? She might overheat the water and burn herself. Or slip on a tablet of soap. Really, there were endless possible dangers.

“I’m coming in, princess,” she warned, before pushing the door inward.

Yeneris found Sinoe beside the bathing pool, clad only in her under-shift, a wan and tragic figure.

She had a mass of pale, sopping wet fabric in her hands.

Yeneris recognized the gown she’d been wearing earlier.

It looked as if she’d been scrubbing at a blotch of bright crimson along the front. Blood.

“Princess!” Yeneris crossed the room in three quick paces, cursing herself. “Are you injured?”

“I’m fine. It’s not my blood. It’s his. The prisoner’s.

” Sinoe batted her hands away, grimacing.

But her eyes were rimmed in red as well.

And there was a tremor in her voice, the rasp of unshed tears.

“Don’t look at me like that, Yen. I’m trying to hold it together.

I can’t afford any more tears just now. That’s more than enough prophesying for one night, thank you very much. ”

Looking at her like what? Yeneris blinked, then jerked her gaze down to the tiled floor, just to be safe.

But she didn’t leave. She collected the sodden gown, tossing it into the basket in the corner. “The laundry will handle that.”

Sinoe huffed. “Yes. Of course. I should know better. Fates forbid I make myself useful in any other way than as my father’s ferret.” She crouched beside the pool, chafing her hands together. There were dark red clots under her fingernails.

Yeneris swallowed the tightness in her throat, then slid down to sit beside her.

“I’ll see to it, princess.” She drew her smallest and most delicate blade, then took Sinoe’s fingers in her own.

She began to gently scrape the tip beneath her nails, one by one.

It felt as if she were holding a songbird in her hands.

She could feel Sinoe’s pulse, thrumming beneath her wrist. It was not slowing.

Yet she did seem to grow calmer, after a time.

When the blood was gone, Yeneris fetched a pot of scented oil, and rubbed it into Sinoe’s fingers as well. And then, at last, the job was done. She released Sinoe’s hands. “There,” she said, busying herself tucking the dagger away again.

For a moment, she thought the princess was sniffling. But it was a soft giggle. “You really keep a dagger hidden there ?”

Yeneris flushed. “It’s not a spot most folk think to check,” she said, stiffly.

“Where else do you hide your weapons?” Sinoe’s lips quirked. “Any other interesting places?”

Well. Good. Obviously she was feeling better. Yeneris stood, retreating from the pool. “You should get some rest, princess. It’s been a long night.”

Sinoe’s smile fractured, and Yeneris cursed herself for it. “Yes.”

“Should I send for a tincture of dreamfast?” she asked.

“No. It won’t help.” Sinoe stifled a sigh, drawing herself up. “And I’ve kept you up far too late already.” She glanced to the latticed window along one wall. The sky beyond showed definite signs of lightening.

“It’s no trouble, princess,” said Yeneris.

“Oh, I’m sure I’m a good deal of trouble,” said Sinoe, merrily. And yet there was something bitter beneath it. A swallowed sigh. A wound untended.

Yeneris fumbled for something to say, but the princess was already breezing past her, out into the apartment. “Good night, Yen. I know it’s your job, but you don’t need worry about me. I’m stronger than I look.”

Yeneris stood a moment longer, breathing in the sweet-scented steam of the bath, agonizingly aware that what she was feeling was most certainly not part of her job. Either job. And that she was most definitely going to worry. For Sinoe. And for herself.

Fool , she told herself, and went to bed.

· · ·

Sinoe slept late the next day. Yeneris would have liked to do the same, but it was too good a chance to miss.

She needed to see a familiar face. And even more, she needed to remember her true duty here.

Not to stand for a full minute on the threshold of Sinoe’s bedchamber, dithering over whether she might need to be woken from another nightmare.

Determinedly, she headed out from the apartment, taking a basket as her excuse. Two palace guards stood in the hall outside. They would keep Sinoe safe.

Yeneris continued down the hall, the spiral steps, and out past the pillared walkway, into the gardens. Dew still clung to the greenery, a glory of diamonds in the morning sunlight that was only just slanting in above the eastern wing.