Eona - Alison Goodman [102]
“Walk normally,” she ordered.
I heard him whisper a prayer. Then he moved forward, leading us out of the shadowy protection of the passage.
We rounded the corner of the harem; before us rose the two enormous red and gold palaces that formed the royal apartments. Each was raised on a marble terrace with a staircase guarded by two gilded lions. Heavy brass braziers lined the steps, creating two majestic paths of light up to the identical porticos. Twelve red columns—topped by carved jade emblems—supported each gold tiled roof that curved up toward the heavens: a harmonious meeting of the earthly and celestial planes. And to enhance the good fortune of the Heavenly Son and his empress, a water garden stretched between the two residences, the pale moonlight picking out the arch of a formal bridge and the answering genuflection of twelve ghostly water trees.
Yet it was not this grandiose beauty that caught my breath. It was the soldiers posted every few lengths around the terrace walls.
“Holy Shola,” I whispered. “So many.”
The eunuch glanced back at me. “There are fewer alongside the empress’s residence,” he said softly.
It was logical; the residence was empty. Sethon had not summoned his old wife to sit by his side as empress. Still, even with fewer guards, the avenue between the residence and the West Temple would make an excellent trap if the eunuch planned to betray us, after all.
Vida’s hand tightened around her knife; she must have come to the same conclusion. If it came to a fight, there would not be much I could do. Every step I took brought a fresh welling of blood through my fingers, and a chill had settled on my skin. Even worse, there was a lightness in my head that made the world pitch and sway.
We crossed the perimeter of the forecourt, the eunuch keeping us at the edge of the light thrown by the bronze braziers. The two soldiers at the corner of the empress’s residence shifted to watch us walk by. I clamped my fingers more tightly around my arm, hoping they could not see the dark saturation of blood on my silk sleeve. A strange sound brought my head up. One of the soldiers was kissing the air, gesturing at his groin. His partner snorted, the noise attracting the attention of two sentries farther along the wall. The eunuch looked back at us, his eyes wide with terror.
“Turn around,” Vida whispered urgently. He obeyed, but his body was stiff with fear.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Dela gesture obscenely at the gyrating kisser. “You wish,” she called, her voice rough.
He gestured back, but subsided.
I lifted my chin, fighting to keep my breath even.
“Keep moving,” Dela urged softly.
We turned into the wide lane that ran between the temple and the empress’s residence. At the very end was the main palace wall, and beneath it, the dark track of the servants’ path. So far away. We had to pass at least ten more sentries along the terrace wall. I fixed my eyes on the ground and concentrated on keeping up with the eunuch’s brisk pace. A mesmerizing pattern of light and dark stones passed beneath my feet. I counted the sentries, trying to focus past the racing rhythm of my heart. Four . . . five . . . six. My whole being listened for a shout or the hiss of a drawn blade, but all I could hear was my hard breathing and the shrill, throbbing song of the frogs in the water garden.
The palace wall loomed ahead. We passed the last sentry and I saw his head turn to follow our progress. The urge to run the last few lengths surged through me. I grabbed Vida’s arm, praying I would not stagger. We finally crunched onto the rough gravel of the servants’ path—dark, narrow, and thank the gods, deserted.
Dela ushered us behind the thick hedge grown to hide the passage of the palace menials. Vida half carried me along the dim, pot-holed path until I stumbled and pitched forward, kicking up a spray of dirt and pebbles. Strong hands caught me under my arms