Page 40 of House of Dusk

YENERIS

Y eneris crept into the garden early the next day. Exhaustion bit at her bones, and her eyes felt crusted with salt. She could have put it off, but that would only give the weasels in her brain more time to chew her excuses to guilty shreds.

I was following orders. They said to make her trust me, and I did. She cares for me, because I made her care. Because we need her for the mission.

She had done nothing wrong. So why did she feel like a child stealing sweets?

Because she was lying to herself. It was more than just the mission now. It had been ever since the night she followed Sinoe to the necropolis. Even now, on her way to possibly be reamed end to ear, she couldn’t help smiling when she passed the jasmine trellis where Sinoe had taken her hand.

So where did that leave Yeneris? There were tiny hooks embedded in her skin, tugging her in two different directions, and if she wasn’t careful they were going to flay her alive. But that was the trouble. She wasn’t being careful.

Sinoe was the problem. Being around her was making Yeneris soft. Making her dream of things she could not have. So it was good she was seeing Mikat. Mikat made her hard. Mikat reminded her that she was not a feather. She was a sword.

I am a sword . She sliced through the gray pre-dawn gloom.

A damp mist hung over the garden, gemming the leaves and vines with soft pearls.

Her sandals were wet, squelching in the spongy mats of purple-blooming groundcover.

She thought she’d seen someone moving past the line of statues that bordered the rose garden, and was heading that way when Mikat spoke.

“You’re up early.” The woman stepped from a gap in the sweet-smelling hedge. She carried a ewer of water, freshly filled judging by the way she rested it against one hip. “Especially for someone who was gallivanting about the city all night.”

The words jabbed her chest. “You know?”

Mikat’s lips quirked. Was she amused? Angry? “You’re a valuable resource, Yeneris. We worked very hard to place you in the palace. With the princess. And we want to make certain you have all the support you need to pursue the mission.”

Yeneris cleared her throat. “Of course. Thank you. Yes, I...accompanied the princess into the city.”

She laid out the events of the previous day, though not in strict order. Better to begin with the visit to the Queen of Swarms, then finish with an account of the family luncheon, the king’s sacrilege. It would horrify Mikat, and focus them both on what mattered most. The kore.

Mikat’s expression, already dour, turned to stone as Yeneris described the desecration of the kore’s bones, turned into Hierax’s puppet, his plaything. Yeneris felt her own blood thrum, and she welcomed it. Welcomed the fury that would keep her fixed on this path.

When she finished, Mikat turned away and spat. “Abyss take them all.”

Yeneris held her tongue, bracing herself for more questions.

“You’ve done well,” said Mikat. “The princess trusts you. She cares for you.”

“Yes.” Best to keep her answers short.

“But she doesn’t suspect you?”

“She knows I’m Bassaran,” Yeneris admitted. “But she doesn’t seem to care. She’s sympathetic to our cause.”

“Or she’s just having a bit of fun,” said Mikat. “You say she’s been kept caged. A caged bird only wants to get free. It doesn’t care what hand opens the door.”

She swallowed a protest. Mikat was right. Perhaps she was only that. An open door. A chance to escape for a little while.

Mikat tilted her head. “That bothers you.”

Furies take me. She should have guarded her expression. Shoved the feelings down, trod them to dust under the heel of her duty.

“I’m not angry.” Mikat tapped one finger against the handle of the water jug, making it chime faintly against the morning silence. “It means you’re doing the job we sent you to do. It means you’ve committed yourself, fully.”

Yeneris opened her lips, but nothing came out. She was too relieved to speak.

“I trust you, Yeneris,” said Mikat, holding her gaze steady, speaking her name with the same inflection her mother had used, rather than softening it, as the Helissoni did. “I wouldn’t have asked this of you, otherwise. But I know that it is a hard task. A painful one. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Finally, Yeneris found her tongue. The words sputtered out, too fast. “I swear, Mikat, I will free the kore’s bones from this place.”

“I know.” Mikat gave her a considering look.

“But remember that you are not alone in this. There are others standing ready to play their parts. We are stronger than the Helissoni think. Already our agents in the south have finished constructing the first five ships for the return. More of our people join the cause every day. They may not know your name, they may not know your mission, but they are all with you, Yeneris. Dreaming of the kore’s return, and the renewal of our home. ”

Yeneris shivered. The thought was both reassuring and overwhelming. Which was probably exactly what Mikat intended. And it was what she needed to hear, she told herself ruthlessly. This mission isn’t about you. It’s about the kore. It’s about hope.

There had been other attempts to return to Bassara since the war.

But none had succeeded. The first had been a fine vessel, sponsored by a wealthy Bassaran merchant from Urabas.

It was meant to be a proof of concept, led by the daughter of one of the Nine Elders, stuffed full with bards and nobles and dreams. But the ship had been lost in a storm with all hands.

Had never even touched the shore, so far as anyone knew.

The second had gotten farther, actually grounding on the curved, white beach sheltered by the eastern headland. The crew managed to last almost a full month, before a mysterious illness ravaged their nascent settlement, and they were forced to abandon it.

Since then, no one had dared attempt the return. Some said that the island was haunted by the spirits of the thousands who had died there. Others claimed that the kore herself was angry that her people had not protected her, had let her be stolen away.

Yeneris had never dared ask Mikat what she believed. She wondered, sometimes, if the older woman’s reasoning was more pragmatic. She was fairly certain that several of the major investors in the expedition would withdraw support if the mission to recover the kore failed.

“Our priority is the kore,” Mikat said. “See if you can encourage Sinoe to visit again. Preferably without her father. Use her doubts. If she suspects that Lacheron has corrupted her visions, she will be easier to manipulate. And she may be the key to unlock our future.”

You are no one’s tool. Her own words to Sinoe haunted her, made her stomach twist with guilt. The hooks in her skin tugged again, sharper now.

“What about the bodies? The ghouls? The Heron is plotting something.”

“Concerning, yes,” said Mikat. “But if some new cataclysm is about to fall, then it’s all the more reason to reclaim the kore. To restore her and ensure our people have a home. A refuge.”

Of course.

“It is curious, though,” said Mikat, “how they control the sibyl’s visions. They can direct her gaze, with pain? All they need to do is force her to weep, with the smoke, and she cannot stop the words?”

“Yes.” The word felt like a hot coal on her tongue, but Mikat didn’t seem to notice. She was nodding to herself.

“Very good,” she said, finally. “Go, then. Continue the work.”

· · ·

For the next two days, that work involved mostly standing around.

Nocturnal adventures aside, Sinoe’s life was highly constrained by protocol and the seemingly endless rituals of dressing, grooming, and prayers to whichever greater or lesser god the star-seers proclaimed to be in ascendence, punctuated by a handful of carefully curated social engagements that Yeneris suspected served primarily to remind Hierax’s court that his daughter spoke for the Fates.

Standing stiff-backed against the wall while two handmaidens dried Sinoe’s hair, Yeneris could almost imagine that none of it had happened. The necropolis, the visit with Melita. The bloom of jasmine and Sinoe’s upturned moon-bright face and the brush of her seeking fingers.

Maybe Mikat was right. Maybe this was all just a game to the princess, a distraction.

Coward , Yeneris told herself. It would be easier, that way.

It would mean she didn’t have to feel guilty.

She could pretend that they were both using each other, that no one would be hurt when this all ended.

Because it would end. Yeneris would reclaim the kore’s bones and be gone, and Sinoe would still be here, in her cage, aching to fly free.

Unless Yeneris set her free, as well. Found some way to remove her from the palace. A tremor rippled through her at the thought, the wild and completely impossible dream. Sinoe beside her on a swift ship, sailing down the river to the sea.

“Yen?”

She startled, drawn out of the vision into a present that was equally unnerving. Sinoe, alone now, standing before her in her silky sleeping gown, face unpainted, her hair twisted up in bits of cotton cloth. Tomorrow they would spill down in long dark curls.

“Where were you?” Sinoe asked.

Yeneris coughed, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, princess. What do you need?”

“Mm. An intriguing offer. Honestly, a sound night’s sleep. But this is our chance, so I doubt I’ll get one.”

“Chance for what?” Yeneris corralled her mind very sternly.

“To sneak into Lacheron’s workshop of course.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“You sound disappointed. Did you have something else in mind?” Sinoe waggled her brows. “We have a mission, Yen. Lacheron must be at Stara Bron by now. We need to find out what he’s up to.”

· · ·

“I didn’t realize picking locks was a standard part of bodyguard training,” Sinoe said as she leaned against the doorframe outside Lacheron’s workshop, watching Yeneris slowly work her thinnest dagger into the iron keyhole.