The Drowning City - Amanda Downum [55]
She cocked an eyebrow. “You think I was part of this?”
“I think someone wants me to believe you were.”
“We just returned,” Zhirin said, fear a shrill edge in the words. “You can’t think—” Her voice broke and she rubbed a hasty hand over her face.
“Forgive me, Miss Laii. This has been a very unhappy night, and it’s cruel of me to prolong it. I’ll arrange for an escort to take you home to your family. Until I learn who’s responsible for your master’s death, I don’t feel it safe to let you travel unaccompanied. Or you, Lady Iskaldur—you’ll be under my protection until this is resolved.”
Trapped, as easy as that. “You’re too kind, my lord.”
“Where is your companion?”
“We were separated at the festival. I’d expected him to return by now.” A cautious stretch of otherwise senses found Adam lurking in the garden below the open window. She pushed as hard as she dared, not taking her eyes off Asheris. Away, go!
“I’ll leave men stationed here. When he returns, they’ll bring him along.”
“What about our luggage?”
“I’ll have that brought too, when we’re done searching the house. I trust you’ll forgive the inconvenience.”
“Of course.”
She accepted his offered arm and his hand closed on her, gentle and inexorable as shackles.
From the shelter of a fern bank on the northern shore, Xinai watched the lights of the city. Lukewarm rain misted around her, whispering against the leaves, gleaming as it rolled off fern fronds.
No point in watching, she knew. Even her night-charmed eyes couldn’t see so far, couldn’t watch what happened in the city’s heart. There would be no fires tonight, no plumes of smoke to mark their success. The scattered groups of Xian revolutionaries made offerings to the spirits tonight, but there would be no masks or dancing in the forest camps.
This was not the kind of death one should celebrate, even if it was necessary. It left her stomach cold, and she wasn’t sure why. She’d witnessed crueler things. She’d done crueler things.
The air chilled and her skin crawled with gooseflesh as Shaiyung appeared beside her. “Don’t mourn them, gaia. They made their choices, as we made ours.”
Xinai nodded, shuddering as her mother draped an icy arm across her shoulders. The ghost was clearer now, her touch stronger.
“I’ve waited so long for this,” Shaiyung whispered. “Soon we’ll have what we’ve dreamed of, what we’ve bled for.” She raised a pale hand to the wound in her neck; Xinai nearly mimicked the gesture.
“What will you do then? Will you go on?”
“And leave you again? I want to see the land remade, cleansed. I want to see my grandchildren. All their whips and knives won’t take that from me again. Your children will rebuild Cay Lin.”
“Ch-children.” Xinai drew her knees close against her chest, tried to rub warmth into her hands. “I’ve never thought of that. Of a family.” A mercenary camp was no place for a baby, and neither she nor Adam had ever wanted to settle down.
“I’ve seen the way Riuh looks at you,” Shaiyung said with a smile.
“Ancestors!” Her teeth chattered as she laughed. “No need to matchmake yet, Mira. Let’s win the war first.”
“We will.” Shaiyung pulled her closer, and the familiarity of the embrace made Xinai’s eyes sting. “They bound the mountain and the river, but they can’t bind us.”
Leaves rustled nearby, almost quiet enough to be the wind’s work. Shaiyung vanished, leaving Xinai shivering in the damp. She reached for a blade, but it was only Riuh.
“How did you find me?” she asked as he crouched outside her shelter.
He grinned crookedly. “You walk softly, but not so soft that I can’t find your trail.” He ducked under dripping fronds and knelt beside her.
“I’ll have to practice.” The warmth of his flesh lapped at her, feverishly hot after Shaiyung’s embrace.
“What’s wrong?” he asked after a moment’s silence. “It’s not just what we did today, is it?”
“No.”
“Was it the man you met in the city?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You followed me?”
He shrugged. “I see how much my grandmother cares about you. I’m not going to let something