hurt.
Atiana heard a faint click, then again. It was soft, but the sound carried like a knife in the dark.
Moments later two more forms-one on either side of Atiana-slid out from between the tombs.
Atiana had only a short knife at her belt, useless here, but she drew it just the same and stepped toward the form beneath the willow.
“Who are you?”
“Be quiet,” he said, “and come. Leave the girl with my men.”
He spoke Anuskayan, though his accent was thick with Yrstanlan.
Atiana thought quickly. She did not want to leave Yalessa, as scared as the girl was-and Atiana herself felt hardly any braver-but these men could have already killed them had they wished to. “Go,” she whispered to Yalessa, who continued to hold onto her hand for dear life. “Go,” she said louder. “All will be well.”
Yalessa left, shivering, as the men closed in beside her. Atiana stepped toward the willow. The man parted the vines and she stepped inside. The darkness became pronounced; the only thing she could see was the faint imprint of willow leaves swaying. The rustle of the leaves was just loud enough to cover their conversation.
“Who are you?” Atiana asked again.
The man was silent, making it clear this was not a question he would answer, at least not yet. “Let us speak instead of why you’re here.”
“Those are my reasons alone.”
“Yours and Bahett’s.”
“It’s no secret the Kaymakam and I are to be married.”
“This has nothing to do with your marriage.”
The wind blew the willow vines, tickling Atiana’s ankles and the hem of her dress. “I would know with whom I’m speaking before I say one more word.”
“Consider me a friend for now.”
“That’s not good enough.”
In the darkness, she saw him shift his weight from one hip to another, perhaps choosing his words carefully. “I’m a man loyal to the Kamarisi.”
“Then why are you sneaking about his cemetery?”
“It’s not the Kamarisi’s. It’s Bahett’s, the Kaymakam’s, and it is him I do not trust.”
“And by that you mean you do not trust me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you meant it.”
Again he was silent for a time. “You’ve come here at Bahett’s bidding, and if I didn’t know who you were, I wouldn’t think much of it. A princess from a foreign land, a woman who’ll soon become his ilkadin, would have every right to visit the cemetery, perhaps paying respect to relatives who died here long ago. But it is known that you are Matra, and this is what gives me pause.”
He was coming altogether too close to the mark for comfort. “Who was chasing me?”
“Men who wished to bid you good fortune for your wedding day.” She could hear the sneer in his voice.
“I begin to wonder if they are allies of yours, meant to scare me into telling you secrets.”
“A shrewd thought, My Lady Princess. They were allies once, and not so long ago. They are men fiercely loyal to the Kamarisi.”
“And you are not?”
“We’re every bit as loyal. We merely differ on how we think the Kamarisi should be protected.”
“Why?” Atiana asked. “Why does the Kamarisi need such protection?”
A series of clicks came from beyond the willow tree. A moment later, more clicks came from the space before her. She could see little, but she thought she saw his shoulder and arm moving, perhaps from something he was manipulating in his hand, a device of some sort.
When he spoke again, his voice had risen in pitch, and it was subtly faster than before. “He needs protection because he is not himself. And do you know why?”
This was all strangely similar to the conversation she’d had with Bahett in Galostina. This man knew she had come here at Bahett’s request. What he didn’t know was how much Bahett had told her. She thought of lying. She also thought that telling the truth might give him reason to kill her. But she didn’t think this was the case. His motives, strangely enough, felt sincere. And she needed to understand how his purpose differed from Bahett’s.
“He needs protection because the Lady Arvaneh has enthralled him.”
“Which is why Bahett brought you here. A Matra, from the shores of Anuskaya, here just as Lady Arvaneh arrives…”
Atiana didn’t answer. He’d come close enough to the truth. It was she that had contacted Bahett, but now she wondered how much Bahett had looked upon the overture as good fortune. Suddenly it felt like she’d been manipulated into the whole thing, though she knew that wasn’t the case. It couldn’t be…
“It’s said,” he continued, “that the Matri cannot spy upon Baressa or beyond it because of the straits. Is it so?”
“Tell me first why the others, the ones you were so recently allied with, would wish me dead.”
“It must be for the same reason,” he said, more to himself than her. “They see you as a threat.” She saw his head turn, focusing on her once more. There was a pregnant pause where she felt him staring at her in the darkness, his mind working through the implications. “Who is it you’ve come to spy upon?” He spoke these words slowly, the timbre of his voice low and resonant.
Atiana tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. She had a primal urge to run. So strong was it that she’d taken a step back before realizing it. She composed herself, forced her breathing to remain steady, as she did in the drowning basin after submerging herself in the bone-chilling water. “I’m here to spy on no one.”
“Come, My Lady.” He took a half step forward. “We both know that isn’t true.”
And then she understood. He thought she was there to spy on him, or his allies, or both. He thought her an ally of Bahett, and Bahett a puppet of the Kamarisi. Surely he thought she was there to protect the Kamarisi. He didn’t understand that Bahett was acting beyond the orders of his Lord.
“You don’t understand,” Atiana said.
He took another half step forward. “Who have you come to spy upon?”
She took one step back. The vines were at her back now, swaying, brushing against her hair.
Another series of clicks came. They were short, and very, very soft.
Atiana heard the unmistakable sound of a sword being pulled from its sheath. “You must go.”
She shivered as he approached, but he merely guided her quickly, though not roughly, out from beneath the willow, spreading the vines for her as she went. “Go to the break in the wall. Tell Bahett you were attacked, and that you ran for safety.”
“And if he asks who was chasing me?”
“Tell him the truth”-he stepped away, his form receding into the darkness-“that you don’t know.”
“I would trust the Kirdhash family a hundred times before I trust you.”
Yalessa was brought to Atiana’s side by two black forms. They left, speeding along the path behind the mysterious men.
“We’ll speak again,” he said. And with that he was gone, lost behind the pale echo of the tombs.
“Come,” Atiana said, taking Yalessa’s hand.
They fled, but before they’d gone twenty paces, there was the clash of steel, only a few rows away.
Atiana went as quickly as she could. The fighting reached a fervor, but it began to fade as they made their way slowly toward the break in the wall.
At last, they found it. It stood ahead of them like an open maw, the landscape pitch-dark beyond it.
“Ancients preserve us,” she said softly as she and Yalessa climbed over the broken stone and made their way slowly but surely back toward the kasir.
As the sounds of battle slowed and then died altogether, she had no idea who might have prevailed, but she found herself praying.
Praying that the mysterious man at the willow had died.
