The Bone Palace - Amanda Downum [102]
“I would be very embarrassed to kill you.” She dropped the blade on a table; she’d only cut herself if she tried to resheathe it.
“What’s wrong?”
“A trying night.”
“Are you all right?”
“As well as can be expected.” She reached for the buttons on the back of her neck and hissed as her wounded arm twisted. She’d forgotten about it during her talk with Isyllt, but now it burned and itched abominably.
“Here,” Ashlin said, moving to help. “I let the housekeepers draft your maid for decorating. I promised you wouldn’t mind.”
Savedra sighed. Mathiros’s imminent return had the staff strained and rushing about their work. She hadn’t realized how peaceful the palace had been without him. She had seen masters far more critical and harsh than the king, but he was always brusque without Lychandra to soften him, and no one wanted to be nearby when his temper snapped.
In her brooding she forgot where she was and whom she was with until Ashlin began removing the pins from her hair. “Don’t,” she said, stepping away. She clutched her gown to her chest in a ridiculous display of modesty.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” The princess turned, throwing up her hands. “Gods, this is so ridiculous.”
Savedra laughed humorlessly. “It is.” She unclenched her fingers and the gown crumpled at her feet. She wanted to kick it aside, but draped it over a chair instead. “What are we going to do?”
Ashlin sat heavily on the foot of the bed, slouching elbows to knees. “What can we do?”
“Pretend it never happened?”
That drew the princess’s head up with a jerk. “Is that what you want?”
She ought to lie; it would be easier. “I don’t know. I have the choice of hurting you or hurting Nikos.”
“You love him. I understand.”
“I love you too. But I never expected this.”
It was Ashlin’s turn to laugh. “Neither did I. I only wanted a friend. I’ve never had many. Which is my own fault, for being a prickly sharp-tongued bitch. Then I met you, and you should have hated me but you didn’t, and you were clever and funny and beautiful and I was so bleeding grateful—” She shook her head. “I never imagined it would turn into something more, but now it has and I don’t know what to do. I’ve seen things like this before. I know how ugly they can turn. If—If you want me to go—”
Savedra wanted to scream, to laugh until she wept; her mother and Thea Jsutien between them couldn’t have concocted so clever a scheme. All it would take was a bit of jealousy and heartache to undermine the already strained marriage and send Ashlin home to Celanor, leaving Nikos embarrassed and obliged to remarry. And he still couldn’t marry her. What would the Jsutiens offer, she wondered madly, if she sent Nikos to Ginevra after all?
It felt like she moved through water as she crossed the room and cupped Ashlin’s cheek in one hand, like trying to run in a dream. “I don’t want you to leave. But I don’t want you to be miserable if you stay, either.” The softness of the princess’s skin sent a shiver up the length of her arm. Even dyed, her hair was finer than Nikos’s, the freshly trimmed tips prickly.
Ashlin turned her head and pressed a chaste kiss on Savedra’s palm, and then a lingering one on the hollow of her wrist. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”
Savedra laughed breathlessly, though it wasn’t funny. Wine, she’d learned, was usually how the princess nerved herself for marital obligations. She thought of her parents together, their easy affection and quiet, obvious devotion, and felt a pang of grief that something so simple should elude so many.
She might have argued that it was that grief that made her tilt Ashlin’s head back and kiss her. Grief and lingering horror, the need to feel warm and safe again. She might have said that, but it would have been a lie.
This time was slower, tentative and exploratory and still awkward. The fit of their bodies was strange and unnerving, but an improvement over Savedra’s clumsy and adolescent encounter with a girl from Arachne twelve years ago. That