Page 50 of House of Dusk

A faint frown creased Sinoe’s brow, but she took the gift, unwrapping it carefully. At the sight of the amber hairpin, her lips parted in a silent oh . She unfolded the note, reading it. She swallowed, then gave a small shake of her head.

“I can’t just leave. I need to stop Lacheron. Whatever he’s planning, it’s something terrible. And he’s using my prophecies to do it.”

“All the more reason for you to leave, then,” said Yeneris. “Please, Sinoe. I need to know—” Her throat clamped shut.

“To know what?” Sinoe’s eyes seemed darker now, the pupils wide. Clouds had dimmed the light streaming through the windows.

“That you’ll be all right.” She winced, hearing how useless the words sounded.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Yen,” said Sinoe, softly. “You were never really my bodyguard, were you? You don’t have to lie. I always knew it wasn’t real. I was a means to an end.”

Yeneris opened her mouth to agree. To admit that she had used the princess to reach the kore. That always and ever, that had been her only mission here. The only thing she cared about.

But for all her training, the one thing she couldn’t do right now was lie. That vow hadn’t been a stupid slip of the tongue. She had meant it. Even then.

“It was real,” she said. “I want you to be safe, Sinoe. I want you to be happy. I want...” Something I can’t have. “You’re not what I expected.”

Sinoe gave her a wan smile. “I’m much more beautiful in person, yes?”

Yes .

“You’re clever and stubborn and wicked and brave,” said Yeneris, before she could stop herself. “And you’re one of the most generous people I’ve ever met. I’m not sure how you fit such an enormous heart into such a tiny person.”

If she reached out now, she could brush the loose curl at Sinoe’s temple. And Fates help her, she wanted to. That, and more. To trace the curve of Sinoe’s cheek. To test the softness of her lips. To squeeze the space between them to nothing but heat and skin.

Sinoe stared back, eyes liquid, shimmering. “Yen, I—” She drew in a ragged breath. “Oh!” She lifted a hand to her cheek as a single tear slid free.

Yeneris was still staring stupidly at that lone jeweled droplet, her brain too slow to recognize what was happening, when the uncanny, inhuman voice of the Fates began to spill from Sinoe’s lips.

“ Two maidens shall be bound, but only one shall walk free if the divided heart remains .” Sinoe shuddered, her back arching, quivering in the grip of the prophecy. “ The key lies hidden. Hidden...”

She gasped, twisting, as if caught in the crash and surge on an invisible sea. Yeneris thought of how Sinoe had described it earlier. A single ewer trying to pour out an ocean.

“Sinoe!” She seized the princess’s hand. It was cold and stiff, the hand of a corpse. Her eyes were wide, unblinking, streaming tears, melting the kohl into dark rivulets.

“Hidden behind the gate with no lock,” she went on, “opened only by the blood of the Ember King . Only...” She gasped again, shoulders hunching, body curling in on herself.

“That’s enough!” Yeneris pleaded. “Please, Sinoe. Stop. Stop !” The last word came out a shout, flung into the air, at the Fates themselves.

But the words rolled on. “ Only the right key can set the future free. And only then shall the old enemy fall. ”

Desperately, Yeneris cupped Sinoe’s cheek, trying to turn the princess’s face toward her. Her fingers slid, damp and crimson. Yeneris stared stupidly at them before the meaning struck her, turning fear into horror. Blood. Sinoe was weeping blood!

Oh no. No no no. And then she was fumbling for the pouch, the one she’d carried always, ever since her first day of service. The one that held Sinoe’s elixir. The only thing that could stop the blood tears, before Sinoe wept herself into oblivion.

Yeneris cursed, fingers slipping on the seal. She drew one of her daggers, slashing it clear. With one hand, she tipped back Sinoe’s head. With the other, she pressed the vial to her lips, dumping the contents past her chattering teeth.

Everything smelled of blood and honey. She held Sinoe tight as a promise as the woman shivered and moaned. Her secret dream, warped to this horrible nightmare.

Sinoe gave one final shudder, then went abruptly, horribly still. The empty vial cracked against the marble floor as Yeneris hugged the princess close, lowering her softly to the ground. Please. Please be alive. Please don’t take her.

“Sinoe?”

Nothing. The barest of breaths. So slow, so shallow.

“Help.” The word came out a croak. She coughed. “Help!” Stronger then. She heard the voices in the hall, a thud of heavy footsteps. “Please! Send for a physician.”

The door crashed open, and suddenly the room was full of people. And yet Yeneris could not move. She could only kneel there, with Sinoe cradled in her arms, praying to the Fates that she might keep her vow.

· · ·

It had been nearly a full day, and Sinoe still hadn’t woken. Yeneris watched from her position along the wall in the princess’s chamber, as the physician pressed her fingers to Sinoe’s wrist. “Her heart is strong. I believe the danger is past.”

King Hierax let out a long breath. “Good. Thank you, doctor.”

He sat hunched beside Sinoe’s bed, his eyes never leaving his daughter’s face.

He’d burst in shortly after the princess had been carried to her bed, and had barely left her side, a solid rock amid the swirl of servants and handmaids and three different physicians.

Yeneris could almost believe that he truly cared for her.

And maybe he did. She supposed you could be an arrogant, self-important ass but still love your daughter.

You could love someone, and still use them, still sacrifice their happiness for your own. An imperfect, incomplete love.

It was a bitter irony that she would feel any shred of kinship with Hierax.

But hadn’t she done the same? She cared for Sinoe—no sense denying it now—but she’d used her.

Sinoe was laying there pale and still as a corpse because she had wanted to help Yeneris.

Easy enough to excuse it, to convince herself that it was for the greater good, for Bassara, for the mission. Hierax probably had excuses too.

But if Yeneris truly cared only for her mission, she wouldn’t even be here now.

She’d have taken the kore and fled. Now that opportunity was gone.

Probably forever. Even once Sinoe recovered— please, please let her be well again —Yeneris doubted there would be any more unsupervised visits to the south wing.

In fact, she suspected Sinoe would be watched even more closely.

Yeneris held her breath, testing herself, feeling for the bite of regret or guilt for choosing Sinoe.

She felt none. Because everything she’d said to the woman was true.

And she had to believe that if the kore’s spirit still clung to her bones, that she would not want Yeneris to abandon Sinoe either.

Mikat was another story, of course, but Mikat didn’t need to know any of this.

Well, likely she would hear rumors, but it would be easy enough to explain.

There was a way to save both the princess and the kore. Sinoe’s own prophecy had said as much. Two maidens shall be bound, but only one shall walk free if the divided heart remains .

Yeneris was fairly certain the two maidens were the kore and the princess.

Both were grasped tight in Hierax’s hands, closely guarded treasures.

But what did the Fates mean about a key and a gate with no lock?

Was Hierax going to move the reliquary to some impregnable storehouse?

Or was it Sinoe who would be locked away?

She chewed the inside of her cheek, watching the doctor sorting through a box of medicines and wishing again that the Fates could make things a little more clear.

On the other hand, only one shall walk free if the divided heart remains was painfully clear. But Yeneris had chosen to stay. Was that enough? No, clearly not, given all the rest about keys and blood. Still, there was hope.

A moan drew her attention back to the bed. Sinoe’s eyelids fluttered. “Fates. How much wine did I drink?”

Hierax leaned over her. “No wine, daughter. The gift of the Fates.”

Sinoe’s eyes opened fully at the sound of the king’s voice.

Her fingers spasmed, trying to push herself into a sitting position.

“Father? What are— oh !” She twisted, her eyes darting around the room, before they found Yeneris and the wildness softened.

Only for a heartbeat, but enough to make Yeneris straighten, for her throat to go suddenly dry.

Sinoe flopped back into her pillows. “I...I’m sorry, Father,” she said. “I was so overcome, seeing the Faithful Maiden, knowing how painful it is for you—for her—to be divided as you are. But the Fates granted me the most beautiful vision.”

Hierax blinked. His large hands curled slowly, as if he were seizing the hem of destiny. “What vision? Tell me.”

Yeneris tensed, but Sinoe didn’t even glance toward her now. Her expression was utterly serene, utterly innocent. “I saw the Faithful Maiden restored to life, and garbed in fine linen. A wedding veil, I think.”

How had she ever thought Sinoe simple? Even now, groggy, ill-used, and battered, the princess was quick-witted enough to weave such a lie.

It was exactly the sort of thing the king would believe.

It was what he wanted. That was obvious in every eager line of his body. “You’re certain? You saw her? Alive?”

“Standing at your side.” Sinoe gave her father a wan smile. “You both looked so happy.”

Hierax swallowed, his lips pressing tight for a moment. Then he reached out, taking Sinoe’s hand. How easily he could crush her fingers. But he only gave a gentle squeeze, then leaned closer, pressing his lips to his daughter’s forehead.

The physician and servants had withdrawn. Only Yeneris remained close enough to see Sinoe’s face. The spasm of emotions. Pride. Love. Sorrow. It occurred to Yeneris that if a flawed man was capable of love, he might also be loved in return. Even if that love was imperfect and wounded.

Voices sounded in the hallway. Yeneris tensed at the impatient rumble, a louder protest from one of the guards. “The princess is ill. The king does not wish to be disturbed. You can’t—”

Yeneris shifted one hand to the hilt of the dagger hidden along her thigh just as the door to Sinoe’s chamber burst open and Lacheron strode into the room.