The Bone Palace - Amanda Downum [135]
“She didn’t try to kill you?”
“What would be the point?” He laughed harshly. “Mathiros had already cast me aside. And she knew her murder had never been my goal. All her rage is for him.”
“And he doesn’t remember why.” She remembered Phaedra’s fury in the palace—You’ll remember me—and Mathiros’s confusion.
“Yes. I should have struck her down when she came to me, or gone straight to Mathiros with the news. But I couldn’t do that to her again. Not after—”
Not after everything.
They sat in cold and silence for a moment, while the blue light of dawn rose behind the curtains. She didn’t say that’s horrible, because he knew it was. She didn’t say how could you? because she knew how he could. She didn’t say I’m sorry, because that didn’t help anything.
“She’s due her revenge,” Isyllt said at last. “I grant you that. But what about Forsythia, and all the others she and Spider have killed? Don’t they deserve the same?”
“Justice for all?” His eyebrows rose. “Have you become an altruist?”
She laughed. “I’ve become what you made me.” She rose, unsteady as liquor and fatigue surged through her limbs. “What are we going to do?”
“We?” He rose to meet her. “You would still stand by me?”
“You’ve done terrible things. I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same. I was made for terrible things, wasn’t I?”
“I may have made you a killer, but your strength and cleverness are your own. Don’t throw yourself away for me.”
A muscle worked in her jaw. “I thought you were done making decisions for me.”
He touched the disheveled wreck of her veil again, then cupped her cheek, skin to skin. She leaned into the touch. He lowered his mouth to hers.
Her left hand tightened against the nape of his neck; her right tangled in his robes. The taste of ouzo on both their tongues slowly melted into the familiar warmth that was his alone.
When they drew apart her pulse beat hard and fast in her lips and the ocean-rush of blood in her ears deafened her. Her eyes were closed, but she felt his sharp intake of breath. He still wanted her, and that dizzied her more than liquor ever could.
She took his hand and led him to the bedroom. He didn’t argue.
CHAPTER 18
The demon days were meant to be spent indoors, either at home with family or in a cathedral for prayer and meditation. No one ventured out between dusk and dawn for fear of the Invidiae, the jealous demon sisters who gave the dead days their name—most didn’t venture out at all. So when Thea Jsutien arrived before noon demanding to speak with her, Savedra was at a loss.
Her equally disgruntled maid dragged her out of bed and helped her scrub off the remnants of last night’s cosmetics. On any other day she would have made Thea wait, and wielded her wardrobe like a weapon. Today, slow and aching with fatigue and bruises from her fall, she very nearly left her rooms in a robe with her hair in snake-tangles around her face.
Instead she found a plain black dress and let Marjana comb her hair and braid it and knot it at the nape of her neck. She wore no jewelry, not even her pearls—jewels and fine things were said to attract the Invidiae, a legend she had no desire to test. And if Thea had come to her here, she hardly needed to remind the woman of her station.
Marjana had left the archa waiting in the gallery’s solar, which offered an excellent view of the frost-decked gardens. It offered the garden’s chill as well—fire in every hearth was another luxury to be avoided; tea and cakes were right out. Savedra’s breath fogged the air as she sighed.
Thea had dressed simply as well. Savedra had never thought to see such a thing, but the woman could have been any merchant-wife in plain brown wool, her greying hair coiled neatly. She was of an age with Savedra’s mother, but today she looked much older.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” Savedra said. “What can I do for you?”
Thea’s shadowed eyes narrowed. Deep lines framed her tight-set lips. “What have you