come.
“What is it?” Riuh asked as he caught up.
The fourth ward she’d seen hung in front of them, rattling softly. She frowned at it, knelt to examine the rain-soft earth beneath the trees. Just enough light left to see without a charm. “Ha,” she muttered. “Look.”
Riuh crouched beside her, looked past her pointing finger toward a line of kueh tracks. No more than a day old; she could smell fresh droppings somewhere close. They’d passed half a dozen such tracks, but it had taken her this long to realize what was wrong.
Riuh stared, frowning. “They pass the wards.”
All the tracks they’d seen crisscrossed the line of markers, wandering in and out of the blighted spot. Kueh, like tigers and dogs, had no love for ghosts.
“Those motherless dogs-” Riuh shook his head, nearly laughing. “False wards?”
“The wards are real enough, but I wonder how much blight there really is behind them.”
“I’m fool enough to find out if you are.”
She glanced up at the shadow of the mountain, the stars blossoming all around it. “In the morning. A little foolishness goes a long way.”
The western sky caught fire and lined all the clouds in orange and violet as Isyllt and Asheris returned to the Khas. Weariness dragged at her limbs, slumped her aching shoulders. Asheris hadn’t spoken since they left the village, and she had no will to draw him out. The fierce exultation of the fight was long drained from her, leaving only a sick hollowness behind.
She sent Li away and drew her own bath, shedding her filthy clothes on the bathroom floor and sinking into the warm water with a grateful breath.
When she’d scrubbed dried mud and gore from her hair, she drained the cooling water and refilled the tub, then reached for her fallen coat and pulled the wrapped mirror from her pocket. She could all but hear Kiril’s chiding voice-good mirrors were expensive and hard to replace at a moment’s notice.
“Adam,” she whispered, trailing her fingers across the surface; water streaked and beaded in the wake of her touch.
A moment later an image resolved, the mercenary’s face focusing in the glass. His skin was pasty, eyes bruised, green vivid behind purple-shadowed lids.
Isyllt let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “What happened to you? And where are you?”
A smile twisted his mouth. “The local wildlife. But Vienh promises the worst has passed.” Isyllt raised a brow at that, remembering her missing scarf, but she knew Adam wouldn’t trust carelessly. “She found me a smuggler’s cache to hide out in for a while,” he went on. “You look more comfortable. Not to mention cleaner.”
She snorted, tilted the mirror upward. “It’s very pleasant, for house arrest. But I think someone will try to kill me soon.”
“Who?”
“An assassin posing as an apprentice mage-maybe she really is both. The Viceroy uses her to clean up messes.”
“Then you’ve got more than one problem. The Dai Tranh has someone in the palace posing as a servant, and they’re planning some entertainment during the execution tomorrow. Anhai’s maid helped frame you, and it sounds like she wants a more permanent solution now.”
“Lovely. Something to look forward to. What’s her name, the maid?”
“Kaeru-I don’t know the clan. The other woman’s I didn’t catch.”
“Good work. Have you heard about what happened in Xao Par Khan?”
“I’ve been keeping my head down today. What happened?”
“Ghosts attacked, killed everyone, but I don’t know why. Let me know if you hear anything useful.”
“What do you want me to do tomorrow if trouble happens at the execution?”
“Stay close and watch. If I have to run, I’ll try to meet you at the docks by sunset. I should go. Be careful.”
“You too.”
She broke the connection and his face faded into black. The water had cooled, and her fingertips were wrinkled. She ached for sleep, but instead she combed her hair and dressed and went to find Asheris.
He answered the door in a robe and loose trousers, the smell of soap and water still clinging to his skin. The hollow look around his eyes lingered.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Just tired.” He sank into a chair. “Some things I can’t quite grow used to.” He waved toward the dinner tray on the table. “Tea? I’m afraid it’s cold.”
“That’s all right.” Isyllt poured a cup, swirled bitter black liquid around for a moment. Leaves eddied and swirled against porcelain; a pity she’d never been much for divination. After a moment she set it down again and rose to pace beside the window. “You need a proper team of necromancers.”
“I know. The Emperor has other priorities.”
She paced another circuit, pausing as she passed his chair. His robe hung open, and for the first time she saw his collar clearly. Gold wire looped and whorled around his neck in delicate vining tendrils. Tiny rubies gleamed like drops of blood. She followed the twisting lines, but didn’t find a clasp. She raised a hand, stopped before she touched him.
“What deserves such a prison?” The power of the diamond whispered against her hand, a rhythm she didn’t recognize. Something strange about the feel of it.
Asheris turned, caught her hand and kissed her fingertips. This kiss was neither chaste nor courteous. Heat spread from his lips, shivered the length of her arm. He stood, still holding her hand, and warmth lapped over her.
“What are you doing?” Her voice wasn’t as steady as she would have liked.
“What do you think I’m doing?” His other hand traced the angle of her jaw, tilted her face up.
“I think you’re trying to distract me.”
“Is it working?”
He kissed her; she didn’t stop him. The taste of his magic spilled over her tongue. The strangeness was there too, some subtle flavor she didn’t understand. She leaned in, mouth opening, free hand rising to cup the curve of his skull.
He flinched from her touch and pulled away. Her pulse beat in her lips.
“I’m sorry.” He took her left hand carefully, not touching the ring. “Not this, please. Not after…”
She looked down at the diamond, black and still now, no fire in its depths. She might demand the same of him, but the bruised look on his face stopped her. Beyond foolish, but she was tired of being alone. She twisted the ring free, slipped it into her inside coat pocket and offered him her naked hand.
“No ghosts.” That was a lie and they both knew it; their ghosts were always with them.
He kissed her fingertips, her palm, and pulled her close. The lamps flickered and died as he led her to his bed. For an hour or two, at least, they might banish them.
Isyllt woke with a start, reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. The bed was empty and cold, and the room as well. A draft gusted over her, teasing gooseflesh across her skin and tightening her breasts.
She reached down, found her clothes where she’d left them and checked her pocket. Her ring was still there; she slipped it on, shaking her head at her own stupidity. At least the diversion had been pleasant. She pressed her face to the pillow and breathed in the scent of sweat and spices.
Isyllt rose and dressed, followed the humid draft into the sitting room, where the balcony door stood open. Rain hissed against the leaves, dripped over Asheris’s bare shoulders as he leaned out into the night. A shining rivulet snaked down his back, soaking into the waist of his trousers. He scrubbed a weary hand across his face and flung droplets away.
She bit her lip and nearly turned away. She knew that tired antipathy-she’d seen it in Kiril a dozen times, in her own reflection. But mercy was so rarely an option, for yourself or the enemy.
“Lie back and think of the Empire?” she asked softly.
Asheris turned, scattering water. In the darkness his skin was nearly purple. “I’m sorry,” he said after a pause.
