The Bone Palace - Amanda Downum [59]
The prince saw Savedra off, though their farewells were stilted. Of the princess there was no sign; she had taken ill the day before. Maids had heard her fighting with Nikos, and rumors of another pregnancy or the unlikelihood thereof circulated with knowing glances and shaken heads.
The carriage kept a leisurely pace till the city walls shrank behind it, then the driver urged the six Medvener Bays into a gallop. The countryside rolled by, coastal scrublands giving way to brush, and the wooded hills drawing ever closer. The wind from the north was heavy with the tang of pine and graveyard cypress and the distant bite of snow.
Inside the cushioned cab, Savedra brooded. She ought to be pleased her plan had worked so well, or at least happy to see her childhood home again. Glad of a respite from court and politics. And she was, but still her thoughts spiraled down to frets and worries with every idle moment.
“Your face will set that way if you don’t stop frowning. And you’ll wear a hole in your skirt.”
Savedra blinked and dragged her hands away from the hem she’d been picking. Ashlin lounged on the opposite side of the carriage, one booted foot drawn up on the bench. Every so often she tugged the window open, slitting her eyes against the cold wind. It had taken some argument to convince her to ride in the carriage instead of remaining with the outriders after they left the city walls, but even in confinement her mood had improved since they left the palace. Savedra had seen her smile more in the past several hours than in two months in Erisín.
The princess wore mercenary armor in patchwork black and brown, and her hair had been trimmed to a rougher shape than her usual sleek bob and dyed a dark nut-brown. The color wouldn’t fool anyone who saw her pale eyelashes, but it made her green eyes all the more striking. She’d even pierced her ears again and hung them with gold and silver hoops, the wealth of a successful sellsword. It didn’t look like a disguise—more like a disguise had been stripped away to show the truth. Ashlin would never have agreed to leave the palace for her own safety, but the ruse had caught her interest, as had a trip to the library at Evharis. It wasn’t an invitation an Alexios was likely to receive.
“If you mean to keep me penned in this rattling box, you could at least offer more conversation than my horse.” Metal flashed with her smile; a silver stud kept the hole in her nostril open in the absence of her wedding jewelry.
“Sorry.” Savedra’s own smile was wry and lopsided. “You might be better off with the horse.”
“My guards used to say that the only useful thing a horse couldn’t do is dice. I don’t suppose you have any of those on you?”
“I’m afraid not. And the bouncing wouldn’t help.” The ride was actually quite smooth—the coach was well sprung and the roads maintained, but the constant soft rattle made her spine ache; her ears ached from the clatter of hooves and wheels. She’d never cared for riding especially, but the sight of nothing but the dim wood-and-upholstery interior of the cab might be enough to drive her ahorse after another day. “I imagine there’s a deck of cards here somewhere, though.”
After a bit of searching she found one in a door pocket, along with a charcoal nub and scraps of paper smeared with old scores—the coach’s last occupants had taken their tarock games seriously. The cards were worn soft at the edges, faces faded. They whispered as Savedra shuffled, a muted hiss instead of the sharp slap and crack of crisp stock. Teaching her to play for money was one of the myriad ways Varis had corrupted her as a child.
Thinking of her uncle nearly made her frown again, though she kept her face smooth this time. A visit to Evharis was only half an excuse to keep Ashlin out of harm’s way; Savedra and the princess had both been with