The Bone Palace

anything to do with their subterfuge last night, she couldn’t turn away.

“All right,” she said at last. “I’ll see what I can find. I’m sure my mother will be glad to help, if it means forming a closer bond with House Hydra.”

Thea acknowledged the debt with a frown and a nod, and rose stiffly. “I hope for all our sakes that you find her quickly, then. The turning of the year is no time to have affairs in such disarray.”

When Savedra was alone she chafed her frigid hands. Then she stood, shaking out her skirts, and returned to her rooms for a cloak, wondering how she would bribe a coachman to take her out on Indrani.

Isyllt and Kiril lay together, her head on his chest and their legs entwined. The blankets trailed uselessly off the foot of the bed, but Isyllt didn’t mind the chill. She didn’t dare take her hands off him, for fear he would dissolve like smoke if she did. Beyond the curtains, the cold light of Indrani brightened.

“I only wanted to spare you pain,” he whispered, stroking the line of her shoulder blade as if he meant to memorize the shape.

“It doesn’t work that way.” Her fingers traced the valleys of his ribs and the planes and hollows of his stomach. His skin had softened with the years, flesh and muscle lost beneath, but she still felt the familiar strength in his hands.

“No. I begin to understand that.”

Their magic moved as well, tendrils of power teasing and exploring, raising gooseflesh as they ghosted over skin. Neither Ciaran’s clever hands nor Spider’s poppy-sweet kisses could match the sensation of magic so inextricably intertwined.

“Three years of your life?” she said at last, kissing the stark line of his collarbone between each word.

“That was what she demanded. I didn’t have a better offer.”

She frowned and raised her head; her hair slid across his chest and tangled both their arms. “But how can she know? Can even a saint see the end of your life, to know where to snip it short?”

“I don’t know. It may have been a hollow threat, merely meant to make me miserable. Shadows know it would have been easier if she’d snipped the thread three years ago, instead of leaving me like this.”

Isyllt bit his shoulder in response, hard enough to elicit a hiss of pain. “Don’t be stupid. She’s had her time, then. The rest is yours.”

“Mine.” He laughed, his chest jerking sharply against her. “Five years I gave to Nikolaos Alexios. Thirty years to Mathiros. Three to Erishal. I can scarcely remember what I did when my time was my own.”

“Give it to me, then. I’ll make use of it.”

He laughed, until she smothered it with a kiss and her hair fell around them like a veil.

“Come away with me,” he said later, so softly she barely heard it. Sleep lapped slowly over her, but that drew her awake again. No bells rang on the dead days, but she guessed from the light that it was near the second terce- the hour of virtue.

“Where?”

“Anywhere but here. What’s left for us in Erisin?”

What was there for her? Twenty-four years of history. Ciaran and Khelsea and Dahlia, and a handful of other friends she saw less often. A lot of ghosts. The Arcanost and her classes. Her favorite shops and taverns and all the streets she knew as well as her own hands. Her home.

But what kind of home would it be without Kiril?

“It would break my oath.” How that oath was still intact she didn’t understand. But there had been no clause in her vow to serve and uphold about not keeping secrets from the king. The crafters of the oath had obviously understood the latitude her job often called for.

“You’ll suffer for it, true. But you’re strong enough to overcome it.”

“And let Phaedra and Spider throw the city into chaos?”

“Is it really our concern anymore? Erisin has endured worse than a coup.”

She couldn’t argue that. If it were only Mathiros she wouldn’t lift a hand to save him. Nikos had his own people. But no matter what Spider claimed, it was the city that would suffer for a revolution.

She didn’t realize she’d made a decision till she pulled away, dragging a sheet closer around her.

“I can’t leave. Not like this. I’ll resign my position and go with you when it’s over, but I won’t let Phaedra and Spider drag the city into their madness.”

Kiril sat up, the covers pooling around the sharp angles of his hips. The winter chill rushed to fill the space between them. “Phaedra won’t be easy to oppose.”

“I promised Forsythia justice. There will never be justice for all, but for this one I can do something.” She had never set great store on honor-it was transitory and subjective, and often directly opposed to practicality-but she needed some scrap of self-respect, and knew she wouldn’t keep it if her word meant nothing at all.

“Justice at the cost of your own life?”

But that wasn’t the true cost. The importance of her own life had always been a fluid thing, to be guarded or gambled on a whim. The price of pursuing justice now would be another chance at spending that life with Kiril.

“Could you do it so easily?” she asked. “Leave everything you’ve lived for? Or would you only be miserable?” He had said it himself: he didn’t know what to do with his own life. She might start over, if she had him. She had always known, in those lonely hours when she dwelled on such things, how easily Kiril had defined her. How easily he could become her world. And she also knew that his love for her was real, but nowhere as broad or as deep as hers.

“I don’t know. But I’m willing to try.”

“We both make ourselves miserable all too well. I’m not willing to help you.”

The silence stretched taut. Finally Kiril rose to collect his scattered clothes. Isyllt watched him dress, and her stomach felt too small.

A knock at the door snapped the strained stillness. Isyllt hadn’t realized she was holding her breath till it left in an aching rush. She winced as her feet touched the icy floor, huddling in her worn and faded robe as she went to the door.

Her wards recognized Savedra now, but without them Isyllt might not have known her on first glance-she’d never seen the other woman without silks or velvet or the luster of pearls.

“I’m sorry,” Savedra said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Isyllt’s cheeks warmed. “You didn’t. Come in.”

Kiril emerged from the bedroom, his clothing rumpled but in place, and now Savedra blushed. “I should go,” he said. He nodded politely to Savedra as he passed. “Lady Severos.”

Say something, Isyllt thought as she followed him to the door. Stop him. Don’t let it happen this way- But her tongue was numb, her jaw locked. Her hand twitched as he crossed the threshold. He paused on the first step, his mouth twisting in that sad familiar smile. He caught her hand before it fell back to her side, brushed his thumb softly across her knuckles. Then he turned and faded into the shadows of the stairwell.

“I’m sorry,” Savedra said again as Isyllt closed the door. “I didn’t know-”

“It’s all right. You saved us some argument and awkward farewells. What’s wrong?” No one went visiting on the demon days if everything was well.

“Ginevra Jsutien is missing. Her aunt believes she’s been abducted.”

“Do you believe it?”

“I don’t know. Saints know Thea is a liar and a schemer, but I believe she’s upset. What if someone thought she was one of us last night?”

Isyllt frowned. “We both had our veils off after the assassin attacked the princess. When did she disappear?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember when I last saw her.”

“Damn. Who would want her gone?”

“I would, if I were any more ruthless.” Savedra’s mouth twisted. “Though I find myself liking her. But everyone knows Thea wants Ginevra to be queen when Ashlin is gone, and I imagine there are plenty of factions who oppose that.” She rubbed at her injured arm fretfully. “You don’t think Phaedra had anything to do with it, do you?”