The Bone Palace - Amanda Downum [131]
“There.” Isyllt stumbled back, chest heaving. “Kick it down.”
Kurgoth complied, drawing back and slamming one heavy boot onto the wood beside the lock. The door split, spraying splinters as rotting slabs crashed to the floor.
Mathiros sprawled on a divan and the woman in white leaned over him. Her veil was gone, but black hair shrouded her face. One long hand held his jaw, the other braced against the back of the chair.
“You’ll remember me,” she hissed. She let go of Mathiros as Kurgoth charged her, but didn’t look up. Instead her hand shot out, fingers spread and clawed. He stumbled and slowed, but kept moving. Finally she turned to him, catching his wrist in one hand and pressing the other to his chest. The man gasped, choked; a crimson bubble burst on his lips. Phaedra shoved and he flew backward, slamming into a sideboard and collapsing amid the shards of a shattered decanter.
“No!” shouted Lord Orfion, as Isyllt and Phaedra faced each other across the room. Isyllt’s diamond crackled with witchlight and Phaedra’s rubies glowed sullen scarlet. They ignored him, rings flaring bright and brighter still. Neither woman moved, but Isyllt hissed in pain and Phaedra gasped. Then a wall of white light blazed between them and both stumbled back.
“I said no,” Kiril said, deathly calm.
“You won’t stop me again,” Phaedra said. A shadow that smelled of rust and cinnamon filled the room; Nikos cursed and Ashlin’s hand tightened on Savedra’s arm like a vise.
Heartbeats later the shadow passed, revealing the garden door open to the night, and Phaedra vanished.
“Father!” Nikos knelt beside Mathiros. The king was grey and trembling, his coat unbuttoned. “Are you all right?”
“I—She was—” Mathiros scrubbed a hand over his face.
Kurgoth moaned and stirred, and Ashlin turned to help him. Blood streaked his face, but he seemed to have stopped coughing it up. Isyllt’s nose was bleeding as well; she wiped at it absently and scowled. The look she shot Kiril was cold and harsh.
“Father,” Nikos said, helping Mathiros to his feet, “I saw her. It was—”
“You saw nothing!” Mathiros snarled, jerking away. “An assassin. A demon.” His eyes narrowed, training on Ashlin and her bleeding arm “What’s happened?”
She flexed her shoulder absently and winced. “An assassin in the ballroom. Not a demon, though—he died easily enough.”
He nodded. “Mikhael, are you hurt?”
The captain spat blood on the expensive carpet. “I’m standing.”
“Good enough. Find me Adrastos. I want the palace sealed and searched immediately. Kiril—” He had the grace to look abashed, at least.
Kiril tugged his mask off. “I am at your disposal, Majesty.”
“Help Adrastos, then. I want to know where these bastards came from.”
“Of course.” His eyes sagged shut as he turned away, and Savedra fought to keep the naked sympathy from her face.
And with that Mathiros, Kurgoth, and Kiril all left the room, leaving the others standing in the draft. Ashlin, ever practical, closed and latched the garden door.
Nikos sat down hard on the chair his father had vacated. He was the one trembling now, his face ashen. Savedra abandoned propriety and went to him, clasping his shaking hand between hers.
“What is it?”
“I saw her,” he whispered, his voice scraped dry and hoarse. “I saw her face. It was my mother.”
CHAPTER 17
The Solstice ball was meant to last throughout the longest night. But while none of the guests had expected to see their beds before dawn, this wasn’t how they’d imagined the party would end.
Savedra helped calm the guests now sequestered in the ballroom while Isyllt and the palace mages questioned them: Had anyone spoken to the assassin, or the woman in white? Had anyone seen them arrive? No one had, of course, though several courtiers began to second-guess themselves