Page 41 of House of Dusk

“I didn’t realize sneaking into the workshop of your father’s spymaster was a standard part of princess training, either.”

“Oh, yes. They teach it right after comportment and before mathematics.”

“You studied mathematics?”

“I’m quite good at it, thank you very much,” said Sinoe. “If I ever wash out of being Sibyl of Tears, I’d make a respectable accountant.”

Click . Relief melted through Yeneris as the door swung open. She slid inside, moving slowly, cautiously. Lacheron seemed the sort of person who might well leave unpleasant surprises for unwanted guests. And there were the corpses to consider.

But there were no poisoned darts. No ghouls.

Only a lofty chamber lit by thin shafts of moonlight lancing through the high windows.

A couch stood against one wall, but the heaps of storage baskets piled atop it made it clear no one had sat there in a long time.

The desk showed more signs of use. Wax tablets lay neatly stacked on one hand, while the rest was covered in a large square of parchment.

Yeneris padded closer, studying the squiggling lines and dots curiously.

“A map.” Sinoe’s breath tickled Yeneris’s cheek as she bent close to whisper. “What do you suppose these marks are?” She reached out, tracing the scattered black dots from the southern coast all the way north to the Veil.

Yeneris shook her head, already moving on, taking note of the shelves full of scrolls and codexes that marched along the far wall.

The long workbench cluttered with jars and pots and small braziers.

A large trunk in another corner, bound in bronze.

And the arched corridor that must lead to the inner chambers, veiled in a darkness so deep it seemed to devour her vision.

Then a spark of light bloomed, chasing them back. Sinoe held up a tiny oil lamp, the flame half shielded by her hand. Together, they advanced on the corridor.

The quivering light glinted off a bronze gate, a crisscrossing web of bars sunk into the stone. Yeneris could see no lock, no mechanism of any kind. Sinoe swore so colorfully Yeneris turned to make certain it was truly the princess beside her, and not a sailor from dockside. “Can you open it?”

“I don’t even see a lock,” said Yeneris. “It must be hidden. I’ll keep looking.”

Sinoe nodded, drifting away toward the shelves, where she began riffling through the papers.

Yeneris searched the gate from top to bottom, feeling for any secret latch, any loose twist of metal that might be the hidden key. She found nothing. It could be elsewhere in the room. Or maybe it was something the man himself carried. Yeneris had no idea what the true extent of his abilities was.

Hsss .

Yeneris tensed. Was it only her imagination? The echo of Sinoe’s movements? Or had something moved in the darkness beyond the gate? She leaned closer, pressing her ear to the bronze bars. All she could hear was the thud of her own heart.

Up until now, Yeneris had thought the greatest risk was discovery.

Being spotted by one of the household, caught by a patrolling guard.

But looking into the darkness beyond the gate, she felt a deeper, nameless terror.

Like staring up into the depth of the night sky, not at the stars but at the darkness between.

A sense of something her mind could not fathom.

Sinoe gave a small cry of triumph, dragging Yeneris back from the void. She shook herself. Just a fancy. Just her mind spinning to fill the unknown. She left the gate and went to see what Sinoe had discovered.

The princess had pulled a large scroll from the shelf and unfurled the bottom, revealing a series of short stanzas inscribed in ink.

“Poetry?” Yeneris asked, dubiously.

“No,” Sinoe breathed reverently. “Prophecies.”

“Your prophecies?”

“Yes. Look, here’s the last one.” She ran a finger along the lines, reciting them.

“ Long has the old enemy watched and waited. Now he seeks to strike his second blow, and the world will not survive it. The first light must reveal the weapon of unmaking. When it is found, when the Maiden steps forth from flame to take her rightful place, only then shall the old enemy fall.”

Even in Sinoe’s own natural voice, the words seemed to hum, to have weight and heft. Yeneris shivered, thinking of the man with the Serpent’s mark. The blood. The smoke. The screams.

She swallowed the sour taste of the memory. There was something else written below. “What’s that? Another prophecy?”

“No.” Sinoe bent closer, reading. “ Her rightful place? At his side, or mine? Is it possible she might finally—No. Enough, old man. You lost her long ago. This is no time for foolish sentiment .—The dagger is all that matters now. And she will lead me to it, just as the first prophecy foretold. I have only to go to the House of Dawn and find her. But I must be cautious. If she remembers too much it could unravel all I’ve worked for. ”

Yeneris shook her head. “I understand the part about the dagger and the House of Dawn. That was in your prophecy. But what’s the rest of it mean? What first prophecy? And who’s the ‘she’ he’s talking about? It can’t be the Maiden. They already have the kore’s bones.”

Sinoe’s brow furrowed, her lips moving slightly as she reread the notes. “Unless...” She looked up then, hazel eyes catching the glint of the oil lamp, so that she seemed to be a flame herself. “‘ We don’t even know if it’s the kore or some other maiden .’ That’s what you said the other day.”

Yeneris sucked in a breath. Then blew it out. “But if it’s true, if Lacheron knows it, why take the kore’s bones in the first place? Why go to war? Spend thousands of lives?”

“That’s a very good question,” said Sinoe. Her jaw tightened, and she turned back to the scroll. “Let’s see how far back this goes. Here, hold the lamp.”

Yeneris took the small bronze vessel, holding it aloft as Sinoe unfurled the scroll with a feverish energy. For several heartbeats, there was only the slap and ripple as a long spool of parchment snaked loose across the stones.

“Here,” she said, finally reaching the beginning of the scroll.

“My first prophecy.” Her jaw tightened, her eyes stormy.

“I was only five. I remember Father saying he had someone who wanted to meet me. A sort of physician, who could help me with my bad dreams. All I had to do was breathe in some smoke and it would make me feel better. He promised. But I was so scared. It smelled bad, and I didn’t want to have any more nightmares, and they wouldn’t even let Mother hold my hand. ”

Yeneris flexed her own chilly fingers, seized by a wild urge to reach out and take Sinoe’s hand in her own.

A belated comfort. But the princess had already lifted the parchment.

“ Long has the Ember King waited, denied his final victory. But what was shattered shall be remade. The Maiden who once turned from the world has now returned, to reveal what has long been hidden. And if he claims it, even the gods shall tremble before him. ”

“Is there another note?” asked Yeneris.

“Yes. But all it says is, ‘Finally. Finally it will end.’ Not ominous at all.” She began furling forward. “Let’s see if he has anything more to say about the war. It should be somewhere around—ah, here.”

Yeneris leaned closer, following over her shoulder as Sinoe read the words.

“ The Maiden shall grant him power, or deny it. He will not know her at first, for she bears another name now. But what she faces across the sea will unmake her, and she will return to seek rebirth in flame. Only then, at last, shall they be reunited .”

“That’s it?” Yeneris scoffed. “Three sentences. That’s what sent Hierax to war? To destroy a city?”

“There’s another note,” said Sinoe, reading on.

“ A new name. And new memories. Remember that. All she is now is a tool. A way to claim what I need to finish this, and end the tyranny of the gods. Very well. I will wait if I must. But Hierax will not. The man is desperate for legitimacy. So. We will give him his bride. One maid is as good as another, and my allies will feast well. ”

The scroll hung like a long pale tongue, silent now. After a long moment, Sinoe began to roll it up again. She did not look at Yeneris.

Yeneris had been angry for years. She’d held her fury close, turning to it whenever the training seemed impossible, on the dark mornings when she’d risen before dawn to meet Mikat, driving her body to become a sharp and deadly thing. It was a constant, steady burn, familiar if not comfortable.

What she felt now was something new. A flare that shook her, set her limbs trembling, made her want to crash out into the hall and murder every single person who stood in her way, until she found the king and jammed every one of her seven blades into his flesh.

“ One maid is as good as another ,” she repeated, the words snapping out of her.

Sinoe flinched. Her fingers tightened on the scroll, crumpling the smooth parchment. “Yen, I—”

“Don’t apologize. It wasn’t you.”

Sinoe let out a single soft sigh. She shoved back her shoulders. “So what can we do?”

Yeneris began to pace. This was the downside to training her memory to record every detail. The words were inked into her mind now, a jumble of clues, fragments of a larger picture she could not see. You don’t need to understand the whole story. You only need to play your part. Rescue the kore.

She tensed and relaxed her muscles, limb by limb, a small ritual Mikat had taught her to center herself. Sinoe watched her, waiting, wounded, wanting to do something to help.

So give her something to do. Use her. Yeneris could almost hear Mikat’s orders.

She licked her lips, then spoke. “You were right about Lacheron, princess. He’s been manipulating your prophecies all this time. Using them for some purpose of his own. But we can set things right. The Fates can guide us.”

A faint relief bloomed in Sinoe’s face. “Yen, I—yes, I want to help. I want to fix this.”

“Can you get us in to see the kore’s bones? Alone? Without your father?”

Sinoe frowned. “Why?”

“You could do a scrying.” The lie slid off her tongue, leaving a bitter taste. But even now—especially now—she couldn’t risk the truth. Sinoe was the key to the kore. “You said you want to fix this. Maybe the Fates will show you how?”

Sinoe nodded slowly. “Yes. There might be a way.” But her lips had an unhappy twist.

“Is it dangerous?” Would it matter? She had to do this. No matter the cost.

“Not dangerous. Just...” She shook herself. “I’ll do it. The day after tomorrow. Ambassador Opotysi is hosting a hawking exhibition. I can arrange it then.”

So that was it. Sinoe had agreed. There was no need to demand any other details. Or to worry over the shadow in her eyes.

Clack .

They both turned toward the bronze gate. “What was that?” whispered Sinoe. She started to step forward, but Yeneris caught her elbow.

“Wait.” Heart thudding, she lifted the small oil lamp. The single thin flame had been bright enough when they were using it to read the scroll. Now it seemed such a small thing, so easily snuffed.

The thin fingers of gold light reached through the bronze bars, only barely scraping the darkness on the other side. Nothing moved. But the air felt thick, oppressive, heavy with a whiff of rot.

Something glinted, deeper in the shadows. A reflection of the lamplight? No, it was the wrong color. Almost purplish.

Yeneris thought of the ghouls in the necropolis with their bruised eyes. Of her swords slicing them, only to spill out more and more shadowy tendrils. Flame was the only thing they feared. And all she had now was an oil lamp with a flame no taller than her thumb.

“We should go,” she said.

“Yes,” agreed Sinoe. They began to retreat toward the door.

Yeneris’s eyes burned from staring into the darkness.

Every muscle quivered. The door creaked open, letting in a draft of clean air.

The throbbing in Yeneris’s head lifted. She pressed Sinoe outside and slammed the door.

The lock clicked shut and they fled together down the hall.

Behind them, from inside Lacheron’s workshop, came a low, hungry howl.