The Bone Palace

me, she said-so no one would complain within earshot.

The Canal Sarai had been dug decades ago, a wide curve of water gated and locked to slow the Dis’s deadly rush. History was conflicted as to whether it was named for Saint Sarai, saint of lovers and of sighs, or Princess Sarai Aravind, who had drowned in it not long after completion. The Isle of Cormorants stood between the two waterways, crowded with trees and flowers and hedge-mazes-and gull shit, one imagined. In theory it could only be reached by the palace side, but Savedra had heard tales of enterprising thieves rigging lines across the river to steal fruit. She doubted the haul would be worth the trouble, but the risk and thrill alone might be. In any case, the island was searched thoroughly by soldiers before any barges docked there.

Today colored lanterns hung on both shores, and costly hothouse blossoms bobbed on dark water. The royal barge, the Daphne, dripped with more lamps and bright ribbons, and her oiled canopies rippled in the breeze. The canal looked so innocent dressed in jewels and finery, but it was as black and cold as the Dis, and just as hungry.

Nikos helped Ashlin down the step at the end of the ramp, earning him a narrow glare. A footman stood ready to assist Savedra, but before he could the princess turned and offered her a hand.

“Darling,” Savedra whispered as Ashlin’s calloused fingers tightened around hers, “people will talk.” She could already feel the weight of stares on her back.

Ashlin’s grin was more a baring of teeth. The gold ring in her nose flashed with it. “Let them.”

Her life might be easier with less scandal, but Savedra couldn’t help smiling back. She dipped a shallow curtsy. “As Your Highness wishes.”

Nikos watched them with an expression between amusement and horror; the thought of one’s wife and mistress conspiring together must be terrifying.

But she was only willing to push propriety so far, and didn’t join them on the covered dais at the aft of the barge. Thea Jsutien did, and her niece, and other scions of the eight houses who presently held favor in court. Savedra had told Nikos about the assassin, but without proof it would be no use acting against the Jsutiens, even by a social slight. Better, she supposed, to keep them close, but the sight of Ginevra Jsutien glowing in blue silk and topazes was enough to sour her stomach. Behind them all, Captain Denaris was a lean brown shadow at the back of the dais.

The musicians’ barge floated alongside the Daphne, and the night was bright with songs and voices and laughter, the air heavy with wine and perfume and the bitter-cold smell of the river. Savedra threaded her way through trestle tables laden with food and found a spot near the prow. She missed the days when she could enjoy parties, instead of watching and worrying every time anyone wandered too near the prince or princess.

They made an attractive couple, Nikos and Ashlin, if not a traditional one. He wore green-and-violet peacock finery, aglow with gold and carnelians. She wore black and forest green, slim trousers and high boots and a short jacket, with her hair slicked back to bare the strong bones of her face. Besides the nose ring, the princess wore only the golden torc that was the marriage custom of her people, and two rings-the sapphire Nikos had given her, and the ruby in white gold that marked the royal house of Celanor. If she’d worn a sword-a habit that Savedra had talked her out of-she would have looked like a foreign bodyguard, hired for show as much as skill.

Savedra leaned against the railing, Varis’s caution echoing unpleasantly in her head. Ashlin at least could swim if someone tipped her over the side-Savedra imagined the weight of her skirts and pearls would bear her straight to the bottom of the canal. She refused a passing servant’s offer of wine, though she badly wanted some; her imagination was morbid enough already. And though she’d never admit it, the steady sway of the barge unsettled her.

The Daphne drifted slowly across the water, the carven nymph at her prow gilded with lamplight. Eventually they would alight at the island, where more food and wine and music waited, and doubtless a game of hide-and-seek in the hedge, which would quickly devolve into tipsy trysts. She and Nikos had taken advantage of their share of those. Now the thought of him or Ashlin wandering off in the dark sent a chill down her back.

Soft footsteps and a hiss of silk skirts drew her attention, and she turned to find Ginevra Jsutien approaching, her gown shining in the lamplight, a wineglass sparkling in her hand. Even distracted and paranoid, it was hard not to give Ginevra one’s complete attention when she crossed a room.

Thea’s sister had married an Aravind, and Ginevra had inherited his copper skin and lustrous black hair. Gowned in azure and blue and yellow topazes, she shone like a flame. Savedra had to concede the merits of a match between her and Nikos; the girl had wits to go with her lovely face, not to mention Jsutien wealth and trade as a dowry.

Her dark beauty would remind the people of Lychandra, though the late queen had held the added attraction of being a nobody from the Archipelago-in truth the child of wealthy merchants and titled landholders, but that wasn’t as romantic-instead of a scion of a great house. In choosing her, Mathiros had thrown over a dozen daughters of the Octagon Court, and had angered the Eight again when he betrothed Nikos to a foreign princess.

It was a minor miracle and a credit to palace security that no assassin had been successful yet.

“What are you contemplating so seriously?” Ginevra asked, her voice light and musical. Savedra felt like a clumsy rasping thing beside her. She closed her hands on her fan to keep from brushing at her own midnight skirts. Both shades were close enough to royal sapphire to be daring, but far enough to prevent scandal.

“Assassinations,” she said, before she could think better of it.

“Really? I didn’t think it was that boring a party yet.” Savedra thought that she turned away quickly enough to hide her frown, but Ginevra’s eyebrows quirked. “Either you don’t like my jokes, you’re angry about our dresses, or…”

She stopped herself from snapping her fan in annoyance, but the sticks rattled softly with the effort. “Or maybe I don’t find assassins amusing.”

“Does anyone?”

Savedra couldn’t keep from glancing at the dais, where Thea laughed at something Nikos had said. “I imagine some people do.”

“Ah.” Ginevra blinked. Beneath kohl-dusted lids, her eyes were a striking grey. The stones draping her collarbones flashed with her sigh. “And so you judge me by my aunt’s schemes.”

The forthrightness of it startled her, and she answered in kind. “How can I not, when you benefit from them?”

“She doesn’t speak of them to me, you know.”

“No. You would need to be guiltless, in case she was caught.” A predicament she was all too familiar with. What should have been righteous anger soured in her mouth.

“And since you’re speaking to me of this and neither Thea nor I are in chains, I gather she hasn’t been caught.” Ginevra paused, studying the wine in her glass. “I don’t want anyone harmed, even if it would see me queen.”

“But you let her scheme and cling to your innocence.”

“Do you think she would stop for my sensibilities, for ethics or mercy?” This time her eyebrows rose high enough to crease her brow. “Would your mother?”

Her fan snapped now, but Savedra lowered it again, conceding the point with a wry twist of her lips. “No.”

“I don’t want to be your enemy.” And saints help her, the girl sounded as if she meant it. Sounded almost wistful.

“Your aunt will be, as long as she sends assassins after Nikos or the princess.”

Ginevra turned, leaning her stomach against the rail, graceful and sad as the Lady of Laurels on the figurehead. “I had another aunt, you know.”

“Yes.” She could name most of the members of the great houses, including Thea’s sisters. Talia, the youngest, was Ginevra’s mother. Tassia, the eldest… The realization settled cold in her gut even as Ginevra spoke.

“Do you really think she died in childbirth?” She smiled wryly at Savedra’s momentary discomposure. “I know I’m a coward, but I would rather Thea had some use for me.”

She drained her glass and walked away, all shining hair and skirts, leaving Savedra to curse the sympathy