Page 72 of House of Dusk

YENERIS

Y eneris had always thought that Sinoe was attractive.

Even when she’d been convinced that the princess was a frivolous bit of thistledown, there had been no denying the merry brilliance of her fine hazel eyes, the coy sweetness of her smiles.

A kitten used to being petted and primped, to winning her admirers with silky softness.

Now, she saw the claws. Now she saw not a kitten, but a lioness.

Sinoe stood in the center of her dressing chamber, the morning light turning her into a pillar of flame, caught by the gold threads of her gown, the gold ornaments in her hair. Her face was a mask, painted white as marble, eyes ringed in kohl, with two blue tears marking her cheeks.

A lump filled Yeneris’s throat, watching her. This woman who had snagged so deeply in her heart. Who made her believe that she could demand more of the world. That she could be more than a blade to sink into her enemy’s heart.

Was this Sinoe? Or was this some goddess, something rare and strange and surely beyond her reach?

“What’s wrong, Yen? Don’t tell me the tears are uneven. This is my first public scrying. I want to look impressive.”

Yeneris swallowed the lump. “You are.”

Sinoe tilted her head, giving a sly smile. “That’s it? No ‘yes, my love, you are as fine and fair as the summer dew?’” She tsked. “You’ll have to work on your love-talk if you’re going to be sticking around.”

She smiled, but her eyes dropped as she spoke, as she fiddled with the sleeve of her gown unnecessarily.

Yeneris didn’t know what to say. She wanted to stick around. Wanted to stand beside this glimmering creature to the end of her days. Careful what you wish for, she told herself. That end might well come today, if they failed.

“You’re just spoiled by all that poetry.

” That was better. If they were teasing each other, if she could make Sinoe smile, she could pretend that there would be another day, and another, and another.

That today was not so fraught with danger and disaster.

That it might not radically alter everything in her life.

“Give it a chance, Yen. It might grow on you. Like me.” The trailing hem of her gown whispered across the floor as she padded over to take Yeneris’s hand, twining their fingers together. “Are you worried what your people will say? When you bring them the kore, but not me?”

“No.”

Sinoe squeezed her hand. “Will you be safe?”

“I doubt they’ll attack me. They’ll want to get the kore’s bones to safety.”

“But they’ll be angry.”

Yeneris shrugged. “I’ll tell them there were too many guards, that it wasn’t possible.”

Sinoe frowned, creasing the heavy white face paint. Yeneris smoothed her thumb across the crack without even thinking. Because it was only natural, now. “You’re going to ruin your makeup,” she said.

Sinoe huffed. “And wouldn’t that be a shame?

The Fates don’t care what I look like. This is all for Father’s sake.

” She shook her head. “I used to love getting dressed up, you know. Before—before my visions started. I used to sneak into my mother’s dressing room when she was preparing for feasts and watch her do her braids.

She had the most beautiful hair. Red-gold, like copper. ”

Her somber gaze had shifted to the window. Now it swung back to Yeneris. “Come here.” She tugged her toward the dressing table that was still littered with pots of face paint and brushes. “Turn round.”

Yeneris turned. Then sat, as Sinoe’s small hands pressed her down onto the stool. Fingers ran through her hair, pulling free the cord she used to tie it back into a neat ponytail.

“No, don’t move.” Sinoe slapped her lightly on the shoulder when she started to turn, to ask what she was doing. “Or I’ll have to start over. I’m not sure I remember the trick. Ah! There.”

Soft fingers bumped against Yeneris’s scalp as Sinoe separated out sections of hair, then began weaving them together.

“Scarthians have all sorts of braids, you know. They mean different things. There’s one pattern you only ever use once in your life, on the day you ride your first horse.

They braid the horse’s tails and manes, too.

Something to do with the endless cycle of life and death, I think.

I’m not exactly sure. I wish...I wish I’d asked. ”

Yeneris closed her eyes, and for one brief moment she was six again, Mother’s hands guiding her own, showing her how to weave the hyacinth stems into a garland to offer the kore. Just as your grandma taught me, Ris. And maybe one day you’ll teach your own daughter.

“You’ll see her again,” said Yeneris, and felt the echoes of those words.

Would there be a daughter, someday? Yeneris could almost see her: a fierce little girl who would learn to ride horses and braid hair and swim in the azure sea and weave garlands of hyacinth.

Fates. It was too dear a dream even to whisper.

Sinoe worked silently for a moment. Then she cleared her throat. “I hope so. And...and I hope that you’ll meet her too. Someday.”

A lump filled Yeneris’s throat. “Someday,” she agreed. “Everything will be different, after today.”

Sinoe’s fingers stilled. “Yes,” she breathed, like a prayer. “One way or another. Fates, you really do have lovely hair, Yen. I’m not sure why you insist on keeping it tied back all the time.”

“That would be because of the palace regulations.”

“Pff. Well, this is much better. See? Not bad, if I do say so myself.”

Yeneris stood, patted her head gingerly to feel Sinoe’s work. The princess had interwoven a dozen smaller braids into an intricate knot at the back of her skull, the tail ends hanging loose down her spine.

“Wait!” Sinoe cried, spinning away to root through one of the baskets of trinkets nearby. “One last touch. Aha!”

She turned back, something glimmering gold in her hand. It was the hair ornament her mother had sent. She bounced up onto the balls of her feet, sliding it into the knot. “There! Perfect.”

Yeneris coiled her fingers through the loose braids. “What does it mean?” she asked. “You said the braids meant different things. What do these mean?”

Sinoe cleared her throat. “It’s...a sort of blessing. Or an invocation to the spirits of the winds. To keep a loved one safe.” She fussed at a loose tendril. Yeneris reached for her hand, stilling it, and wished that she would never need to let go.

But it was time. They had a holy relict to save, and an apocalypse to avert.

· · ·

Everything was going according to plan. It made Yeneris nervous. True, they had the voice of the Fates on their side, but still. It was too easy.

Eight soldiers had accompanied the royal palanquin from the palace, with Sinoe tucked inside, accompanying the corpse bride, now decked in gilt finery, her veil spangled thickly with golden disks.

Yeneris wondered if it was deliberate, an acknowledgment by Hierax that his people might find the sight of a skeleton bride unwholesome, for all that they believed the myth of the Faithful Maiden.

No matter now. The moment they reached the prearranged location, Hura and his people had sprung their trap. Yeneris had barely needed to help, serving mostly to keep the palanquin from tipping over as the soldiers collapsed, struck by Scarthian sleeping darts.

“Right, stick them in the warehouse for now,” Hura ordered four of his people, who were already busily stripping the unconscious palanquin-bearers of their ceremonial costumes. “We don’t have long before they come searching.” He looked to Yeneris.

She nodded, making her way toward the palanquin. “Sinoe?” She drew back the curtain.

The princess was already crouched in the narrow base, tugging a large cedar box from beneath the seat.

Yeneris joined her, and together they pulled the thing free.

It had been Hura’s idea, and Hura who had provided the chest. The original reliquary box had been cedar, too, carved from the wood of an ancient tree that was said to have been over a thousand years old when it fell during the cataclysm.

This cedar was from a different tree, of course. But it had been a thoughtful touch. Yeneris liked the idea of the kore being once more surrounded by the familiar sweet scent. Safe. No longer on display, no longer a prize to secure a king’s glory.

It made it easier to confront the corpse in its current state. Don’t worry. You’ll be home soon. I won’t let them use you.

She realized Sinoe was watching her. Waiting, her painted face ghostly and serious. “It’s time to set her free, Yen.”

Yeneris nodded, chest tight. Gingerly, she reached out, carefully tugging off the spangled veil, the golden circlet.

The kore’s dark, empty eyes held her. Filled her with a sensation she couldn’t name, too dark for joy, too bright for sorrow.

Next came the gown, and the gloves, and the slippers.

Beneath, the bones had been bound in fine linen, with golden wires wrapped around the joints to hold them in this mockery of life.

Sinoe had made no move to help. Had perhaps understood that this was not a task for her hands. But Yeneris was glad she was there, to bear witness.

“I wonder what happened to the actual Faithful Maiden,” Sinoe said, as Yeneris began to unwind the first strips of linen.

“Given everything else Lacheron has lied about, I can only assume that she’s nothing like the woman in the stories.

I wonder if she knew your kore. They both witnessed the cataclysm. Maybe they were friends.”

Yeneris shrugged, continuing to unspool the linen bindings. “I don’t know. There are stories of the kore having a sister. But—” She broke off, hissing, as a sudden jolt of pain rippled up her arm.

“Yen? Are you all right?”

Yeneris shook her hand, her fingers still stinging. “I must have poked a sharp edge of the wire when I was trying to...”

Her throat closed, as she saw what lay beneath the linen. She had already uncovered the lower limbs, had been working on the left arm when she’d touched the wire.

But it wasn’t a wire. It was a gold bangle. Identical to the one that bound Sinoe’s wrist.

No. Surely it was jewelry, nothing more. She reached out again, to slide the bracelet from the kore’s bones.

This time she could not stifle her shriek. Pain roared up her arm the moment she tried to free the bangle. Even so, she might’ve tried again, except for Sinoe’s hands, gripping hers. Stilling them.

“It won’t work,” she said, with chill certainty. “I’ve tried. With mine.”

And the hope that Yeneris had gathered so tight in her chest shattered into a hundred tiny, painful shards.

What could she do now? Simply take the kore’s bones to Mikat as they were?

But then what? Lacheron had said the other bangle would let him hunt Sinoe down.

This one almost certainly served the same purpose.

And maybe more. For all she knew, he might be able to work some power on the bones through the bracelet.

Simply taking the kore from the city might not be enough to prevent them from committing sacrilege.

A long, painful sigh slipped from Yeneris, and she stared into her empty, useless hands. “Curse the man.”

“I’m sorry,” said Sinoe.

Yeneris shook her head. “It’s not your fault. I should have expected this. Maybe I could have—”

Crack !

She jerked her chin up to see Sinoe holding two pieces of broken red clay in her hands. The amulet. The one they’d stolen from Lacheron. The one that was meant to unlock Sinoe. To save Sinoe .

But the gold bangle on Sinoe’s wrist remained as sleek and unbroken as ever.

It was the kore’s bracelet that clattered to the floor. With a whisper, the golden wires binding the bones began to unspool like snipped threads, releasing the skeleton to patter softly onto the padded seat of the palanquin.

“Now she’s free,” Sinoe said, softly. “Now you can take her home.”

“Sinoe,” Yeneris croaked her name, reaching for the princess’s arm. For the golden band that had not fallen. She thought of the second clay token, the one she had not taken. Because Sinoe told her to take the one on the right. “You knew,” she accused.

“I suspected,” said Sinoe, giving her a sad, wry smile. “ Only the right key can set the future free. I’m not the future, Yen. She is. The future of your people. It was my choice. We couldn’t risk the kore’s freedom for mine. Now help me put things right. She deserves some peace, I think.”

Silently, she began to gather the bones, placing them gently into the cedar chest. After a moment, Yeneris forced herself to do the same.

“What about the plan?”

“Plans change. I’m still going to confront my father. I don’t need the Fates to speak. I’ll use my own voice. And I’ll make him listen. I’ll make them all listen. No matter the cost.”

Yeneris’s fingers froze against the smooth knob of a femur. The cost? What did that mean? She searched Sinoe’s face, but found only calm resignation. “You once told me you’d seen your own death. It wasn’t a joke, was it?”

Sinoe’s lips tightened. “No.”

Something inside her cracked. “What did you see?”

Sinoe cupped a tiny fingerbone in her palm, staring at the fragile thing. “I was wearing a veil. There was...fire. And a dagger.”

A dagger like Lacheron’s god-killing blade? Yeneris was no sibyl, but her brain was more than capable of casting up terrible visions of the future. Sinoe, all her golden glory spilled across cold stones, a pool of dark blood leaching away that vivid, precious life.

A boulder clogged her throat as she watched Sinoe tuck the fingerbone carefully into the box. “There. She’s ready for you to take her to your people. Goodbye, Yen. Please don’t try to stop me.”

She could, though. Easy enough to sweep Sinoe into her arms then and there.

Carry her off to the stables and bundle her onto the swiftest horse and get her as far away from this doom as possible.

Safe as a caged ailouron. Yeneris swallowed the boulder, and her own fear.

“I won’t stop you. But I’m not letting you walk into some Fates-damned future alone.

I’m coming with you. Hura can take the kore to Mikat. ”

“No need for that,” said a cool voice from outside.

The palanquin’s curtained door was flung open, revealing Mikat, sword in hand, a look of cold determination on her face. “We’ll take things from here, Yeneris.”