Page 32 of House of Dusk

YENERIS

T he man on the left was the weakest link.

Someone needed to teach him how to brace properly.

Yeneris could kick his legs out, then one good shove and the brazier would block the other for a few heartbeats.

It might be just long enough to get Sinoe out of the alcove.

One of her daggers to drive back pursuit, the other to get through the outer door.

Still nearly impossible. But better than being taken prisoner. Sinoe was a rich prize, even without her jewels. They needed to get out of here before she was recognized.

“Well?” demanded the other brigand, a tall, pale woman with a scar across one cheek that hooked her lip into a perpetual snarl. “Who are you to threaten our queen?”

“It’s a warning, not a threat,” said Sinoe, somehow managing to look down her nose at them even though she was the shortest person in the alcove by a good handspan. “And it comes from the Fates themselves. I am Sinoe, daughter of Hierax, the Sibyl of Tears.”

Yeneris stifled a sigh.

“The princess never leaves the palace,” the pale woman scoffed.

“We should bring them to the queen,” said the man. “She’s worth something to someone. Might even score a nice cut for ourselves.”

“The queen has enough to worry about, Antioc,” the woman replied. “She doesn’t need to be bothered with by a pair of grifters. Best get rid of them before they cause any more trouble.”

“Pff. What trouble?” Antioc sauntered forward, reaching for Sinoe. “Come along now, princess .”

Yeneris stepped into his path, palming one of her two hidden daggers. A ridiculous thing to face off against a pair of swords but she’d damn well make it count. “No one touches the princess.”

Antioc laughed. “You think that toy will stop us? Give it here, I need a good nail trimmer.”

Yeneris held her ground. “Try it and I’ll trim something else you might miss more.”

A husky laugh filled the alcove, rough and smoky.

It came from a tiny woman who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

She was soft and rounded as a clot of wool, with no sharp edges except for her smile.

Frail wisps of gray showed at the edges of her dark headscarf.

Her light brown skin was crinkled like fine linen.

She was the oldest person Yeneris had ever seen. And almost certainly one of the most dangerous.

The Queen of Swarms dipped her head to Sinoe, her smile glinting in the firelight. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Princess Sinoe.” Her gaze turned to Yeneris next, lingering on her dagger. “Impressive. It’s been a long time since anyone managed to get a weapon past the door.”

“Thank you.” Yeneris had a brief struggle with her pride, but succeeded in keeping the other, still-hidden dagger to herself. This wasn’t over. If anything, it had only gotten more dangerous.

“But I would prefer if you turned it over to one of my wolves,” she went on, gesturing to the brigands.

“Wolves?” repeated Sinoe. She gave Yeneris a significant look.

“That’s right,” said Antioc. “So best not give us reason to bite.” He held out a hand to Yeneris. “Give it here.”

“It’s all right, Yen,” said Sinoe. “We came to speak with the queen and here she is. Let’s be good guests.”

Yeneris did not lower her blade. “ Are we guests?” she asked, looking to the queen.

The old woman tilted her head. “For now. I’d like to hear what brings you here.”

“Lies,” said the pale woman. “We can handle them, Melita.”

“Stand down, Lykia.” The queen lifted a hand, and the woman subsided, her lips pressed tight. Yeneris lowered her blade as well. She had a bad feeling about this. Flipping the blade in one hand, she held it out hilt first to Antioc.

“Thank you.” The queen—Melita—continued on, her tone still conversational. “I assume your father doesn’t know you’re here, princess?”

“No,” Sinoe admitted. “I’m here on my own business. And that of the Fates.”

Melita arched a thin gray brow. “Yes, I’d heard you’re a sibyl. Very convenient for your father, to have the Fates anoint his rule.”

“The princess has true power,” said Yeneris. “You should listen to her.”

“I’ve lived quite a long time,” said Melita. “I’m quite curious why the Fates would take an interest in me only now.”

“Because you’re in danger,” said Sinoe, bluntly. “Someone is going to kill you.”

Melita laughed, the same husky rumble that was so dissonant coming from her small, soft body.

“My dear girl, I don’t need the Fates to tell me that .

I need them to tell me what socks to wear to stop my toes from aching.

Or how to convince my granddaughter that just because a man is pretty doesn’t mean he’s worth keeping around.

I know, I know, I could just get rid of him, but she’d never forgive me. ”

Yeneris watched the two brigands. The man, Antioc, glowered at Sinoe, as if it was her fault. Lykia’s expression was more serene, but Yeneris caught the tap of her fingers against her sword hilt, and the way she was still holding herself on the balls of her feet. Was it only wariness?

Sinoe stood straighter. When she spoke, it wasn’t the otherworldly voice of prophecy, but it was clear and strong and unwavering. “ The Queen of Swarms will die by an unseen blow, her hives dripping secret honey into the jaws of the wolf.”

Melita no longer looked amused. “One of my own people?”

Antioc flushed. “It’s not me! I swear it, Melita. Why would I bring the princess to you if I was a traitor?”

An excellent point.

“It’ll be one of those new fellows we brought in last month,” said Lykia. “I’ll go round them up right away. Before word spreads.”

She was stepping back. Starting to turn. Sword still bare. The blade had just begun a neat and fatal arc when Yeneris’s last hidden dagger caught her in the shoulder.

Lykia screamed, dropping her sword. It rattled across the stones, spinning to rest at Melita’s feet.

By then Yeneris had slammed into the brigand, one sharp punch to the throat, another to the gut, then a sweeping kick.

Lykia slammed to the floor, her head cracking against the stones. She slumped, wheezing and groaning.

Melita had not moved, had barely flinched. But her gaze was like ice. “Antioc,” she said. “See to it.”

The man gathered himself, then went to crouch beside Lykia and began binding her arms.

“You have my thanks,” said Melita, returning her attention to Sinoe and Yeneris. “And my attention. But I suspect there’s something more?”

“Yes,” said Sinoe. “You have some information we need.”

“Then we should speak further. Somewhere more private.”

· · ·

Sinoe sank into the plush couch with a deep sigh of contentment.

Kicking off her slippers, she curled her legs up beneath her, seeming utterly at peace with the fact that they were now deep in the thief lord’s lair.

Yeneris did not sit. She stood beside the arm of the couch, watching as a servant set out a silver carafe and platter of tiny cakes oozing honey from layers of thin pastry.

Melita sat across from them, ensconced in a plush couch of her own.

She did not speak until the servant had departed, closing the heavy wooden door.

“So,” said Melita. “I am in your debt. But I’m curious what information I could have that you might require. Especially given that you have the Fates to call upon.”

“I can call on them, yes,” said Sinoe. “But they choose whether or not to respond.”

“What can I offer that the Fates cannot, then?” asked Melita.

“You can tell me what you do for the Heron.”

Melita leaned back against the couch, folding her hands together in her lap. “That is a dangerous question.”

“As dangerous as an assassination attempt?”

The Queen of Swarms was silent for a long moment. “Mm. Quite possibly.” She narrowed her gaze at Sinoe. “What do you plan to do with this information?”

Sinoe hesitated, glancing to Yeneris. A questioning look, as if she actually wanted her opinion. Or her help. As if they were...partners.

Yeneris took a breath to quiet the thrum of her pulse. Best not to commit. “That depends on what it is.”

Melita gave a wry smile. “I see. In that case...” She pursed her lips, then gave a small nod. “Bodies.”

“Bodies?” Sinoe repeated. “You mean you kill people for him?”

“No.” A strange look passed over Melita’s face. “He wants bodies. Dead bodies.”

Prickles flickered over Yeneris’s skin. “Why?”

Melita shrugged. “I didn’t ask. It’s not my business.”

“But acquiring dead bodies is?” asked Sinoe. “Where did you get them?”

“In my line of work, we do occasionally find ourselves in the possession of corpses,” said Melita. “And there are always folk who die with no kin to pay the grave-tenders for proper funerary rites.”

“So you step in and pay the grave-tenders for their bodies. And then what?”

“I have someone deliver them.”

“What, like a load of cabbages to market?” Sinoe’s lip curled. “How many?”

“Roughly four dozen in the past year.” Melita took a sip of tea.

The scent of honey was thick in the air.

It had been sweet, before, but now it turned Yeneris’s stomach.

She thought of the ghouls in the necropolis.

If the grave-tenders were holding bodies for Lacheron, if they had not been given proper rites, it might explain why they had become ghouls.

Yeneris was no expert, but from the stories she’d heard, that was how ghouls came to be.

If a demon from the underworld found a spirit that was weak enough—as one deprived of the rites would be—they could consume it, opening a sort of doorway into the spirit’s corpse and allowing the demon to inhabit it.

Which meant there might be four dozen other ghouls out there, somewhere.

“Where?” Yeneris asked. “Where do you deliver them?”

Melita tapped a finger against her cup. “I’m afraid I can’t share that. It’s risk enough to tell you this much.”