veils draped a chair, slippers kicked halfway across the room. The glowing brazier was no match for the night’s chill.
An adjoining room had become her laboratory. Vials and instruments gleamed by candlelight, and journals and stray parchment covered the tables in drifts. It was here he found her, naked, leaning over a tray of surgical knives. Her nudity and the cold glitter of steel were both disconcerting, but so odd in combination that he didn’t know what to make of it.
“Hello, Kiril,” she said without looking up. “Would you help me with this?”
He stepped forward, though the calmness in her voice was no safe gauge of her mood. Her hair was piled high and sparkling with garnets, her face flawlessly made-up. He knew certain brothels that would have paid a great deal for the effect, especially with a scalpel in her hand.
“What are you doing?” He decided not to mention the brothels.
She sorted through saws and clamps and blades, finally selecting a long cylindrical boring knife, the sort used to retrieve samples when a full autopsy was unfeasible. “I need a bit of liver, and the angle is bad to do it myself.” She held out the knife handle first. “Be a dear and fetch me some?”
He almost asked if she was joking, but there was no humor in her eyes, only the intensity that came over her when she worked. “You’re well turned out for surgery.”
“I’m going out with Varis. This will only take a moment, and I’d rather do it now before I forget.”
“All right.” Bemused, he knelt at her right side, trying not to wince as his knees met the floor. The candles were insufficient, so he summoned the white glow of a witchlight. He laid his left hand below her ribs, pressing the skin taut. “Here?” he suggested, tapping the spot between thumb and forefinger. When she nodded he set the tip of the knife in place, skin dimpling under steel. With one last glance to confirm her willingness, he twisted the blade home.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, as she made a soft noise. He twisted the knife again and withdrew it. Anatomy classes would be much more interesting if they all had undead to experiment on, but the legal and ethical concerns would likely tie up the Arcanost for years.
“Only if I let it,” she said, wiping away a drop of blood. “It’s cold, though.”
A sliver of greyish-red meat glistened inside the curve of the blade. Phaedra took the knife from him and tapped the liver into a glass dish. When the cover was in place she sealed it with a touch, and spoke a word of stasis to keep the sample fresh. As fresh as years-dead flesh could ever be.
“Thank you. And since you’re here, you can help me dress.” She shot a glance over her shoulder as she turned toward the other room. “Why are you here?”
“I’m leaving.” The words were harder to voice than he’d imagined. “The city, that is.”
“Before the ball? You haven’t even seen my dress.” Teasing, but her brow creased.
“I can’t sit through the final act of this revenge play of yours. They’re always tragedies, you know.”
Her eyes flashed in the witchlight. “I know tragedy very well.”
“Then I leave it to you. My part in this is done.”
She turned, gown forgotten. “It doesn’t have to be. I could use your help, you know, when I take the throne.”
His eyebrows rose. “Really? When did you decide this?”
She shrugged. “We’ve discussed it for some time now, Spider and I.” Her pet vrykolos, the one who’d led Isyllt into danger—Kiril stifled a reply as she continued. “Since we’re removing a king to begin with, why not take advantage of the opportunity?”
“Why indeed. What does Varis think of this?”
She glanced away. “I’m sure Varis would be happy to see the Severoi back in power, even if the circumstances were unorthodox.”
“Of course.”
Her lips pursed in a frown. “You don’t approve.”
“You hardly need my approval at this stage. As I said, I’m finished.”
She closed the distance between them and laid a hand on his chest. “Don’t leave. You helped one king—help me. Or better yet, be a king. I promised to make you young and strong again, and I can. New life for both of us, and a throne besides. Haven’t you dreamed of that?”
He took her hand in his. “I know where my strengths lie. Whose body would you steal for me?” The answer came as soon as he voiced the question. “Nikos, of