Page 8 of House of Dusk

She tried not to wince at the irony of the statement. Yeneris knew quite well she was a poor bodyguard. And not only because she’d allowed her charge to cavort around the city alone for half the night. For now, her mission required Sinoe’s health, but that might not always be the case.

“You needn’t worry about my life,” said Sinoe, her tone merry, spearing Yeneris’s thoughts like a shaft of sunlight piercing a dark and shadowed room. “I already know how I’m going to die.”

Yeneris halted abruptly. “What?”

Sinoe hooked a thumb at her chest. “Sibyl, remember?”

Yeneris’s mouth went dry, her heartbeat quickening. She had a sudden urge to bundle Sinoe off across the sea, away from anything that might harm her.

Which was, again, ironic. Because at the current moment, it was Yeneris who probably posed the most immediate threat to Sinoe’s life. Yeneris was the sheathed dagger, hidden in plain sight, waiting to be drawn.

Sinoe tilted her head, plainly watching Yeneris process this skein of emotions. “Oh, dear, and now I’ve upset you.”

“I’m not upset, princess.” Yeneris straightened, swallowing. “I only want to ensure I do my duty. How—” her voice stumbled—“how does it happen?”

Sinoe’s eyes held her, deep with something like resignation, windows into some unfathomable future. One Yeneris did not want to face. Abruptly the princess shivered, and gave a brittle laugh. “It was a joke, Yen.”

Was it? Or was Sinoe trying to protect her from something?

Yeneris wasn’t sure which possibility was worse.

Only that the princess was a maddening, infuriating creature.

“You really think this is a good time for jokes, princess? The dead are walking. And if your father learns you were out in the city, he’ll probably take my head off. ”

“Oh, don’t be a grump,” said Sinoe. “You were splendid.”

Even the rime of ice on Yeneris’s spirits could not survive that smile, a glitter of teeth and dark eyes that rivaled the stars above.

“Not that I was surprised,” she added. “You wouldn’t be my bodyguard if you weren’t the very best. Father would never risk anything happening to his pet prophet.”

The starlight dimmed. Pet prophet, Yeneris noted. Not daughter. Was that how Sinoe saw herself?

“If you know how highly your father values you, why sneak out at all?” Yeneris found herself asking. “Why not tell him what you saw? Surely he could have sent his soldiers to stop those ghouls.”

She winced, realizing her slip belatedly. But Sinoe didn’t seem to have noticed the Bassaran word. The question had distracted her, and she was chewing her lip now, brow furrowed.

“It was one of the possibilities. But this one was better.”

“A man died,” Yeneris pointed out, though she regretted it when Sinoe’s expression crumpled.

“I know.” The princess swallowed, pressing herself back against one of the columns separating the walkway from the garden.

She stared up into the sky. “I don’t see a single future.

That’s not how it works. It’s more like.

..a handful of threads. All of them slightly different colors.

Different shades of possibility. But none of those threads ended with him living.

Some things are fluid. Some things are. ..fixed.”

They were nearly back to Sinoe’s chambers. Just up the steps, along one hall. Yet she lingered, watching Sinoe stare into the night sky, her pale face reminding Yeneris of a moonflower, or some other bloom that opened only to the stars.

“I wish I could have saved him.”

“You saved the others,” Yeneris found herself saying. “You said more might have died if we hadn’t been there.”

Sinoe nodded slowly. Then she turned, abruptly transfixing Yeneris with those enormous eyes.

“I owe you an apology. I used you. I knew the only way to get you to come with me was to sneak out. To force you to follow. I turned your duty against you. I made you my tool and I shouldn’t have done that.

I, of all people, should know better,” she added, bitter with self-recrimination.

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” said Yeneris, brusquely. Heat flooded her cheeks. “Please. Let’s just—”

She broke off at the sound of footsteps. Someone coming down the steps from the floor above. The floor that held Sinoe’s chambers. Yeneris growled under her breath, starting to press Sinoe into the garden, out of sight.

Too late. A tall, slim figure hurtled down the staircase, bent with fierce intensity, as if he meant to slice his way through the world.

Sinoe slid from behind Yeneris with a happy cry and ran to intercept the living dagger. “Ichos!”

The young man halted, a look of relief flitting across his angular features. “There you are!”

Prince Ichos had the same proud bearing as his sister, but on him it seemed an attack, a dare to the world to strike him down. His hair, undyed, held richer glints of red, catching the light of the braziers like rubies. His eyes were not as clear as Sinoe’s, more of a muddy hazel.

Ichos scanned his sister up and down, frowning at the dust clotting her gauzy skirts.

Then he looked past her, to Yeneris. His gaze went instantly to the rag she’d bound around her arm, where the first ghoul had sliced her.

It wasn’t much of a wound, barely a scratch, but enough to need tending.

And she’d given Sinoe her cloak, after noticing the girl shivering on their walk home.

“What happened?” He glanced to Sinoe, then back to Yeneris. His jaw tightened. “Was my sister in danger?”

Sinoe’s laugh broke the silence, merry and tinkling, entirely unlike the low chuckle Yeneris had heard earlier.

“Ichos, you know quite well I’m a danger to myself.

” She gave a dramatic sigh. “If you must know, I was out in the gardens earlier today and I lost an earring. I wouldn’t have bothered, but it was one of the amber bees. You know, the ones Mother gave me?”

Ichos nodded, frowning.

“So I had to force poor Yen here to come with me to find it. And wouldn’t you know, I’d lost it right in the middle of the rose bed.

I would have gone in for it myself, but Yen insisted.

” Sinoe ended this speech with an elaborate shrug, the movement conveniently showing off the jewelry currently decorating her ears, gold settings shaped like honeybees clasping polished amber. “I’m hopeless.”

It was a flawless performance. Yeneris was forced to revise her estimation of the princess yet again. If she could lie so easily to her own brother, she could certainly lie to Yeneris.

Ichos made a doubtful noise at the back of his throat. He was still glowering at Yeneris, as if this was somehow her fault. She fought to keep her own expression cool, impassive.

“Don’t be sour,” Sinoe told him. “I haven’t eaten all the milk candies. I know they’re your favorite. Come up. We’ll have tea, and you can tell me all about that delicious poet you’ve been spending—”

“I didn’t come for tea,” said the prince.

Sinoe held her breath for a heartbeat. Going still, like a mouse that fears the hawk, spiraling above. “Why, then? What do you need?”

“Not me. Father.” Ichos’s mouth pinched. “He’s returned. And he requires your services. Immediately.”