Bone Palace, The - Amanda Downum Page 0,13
one were innocent—and then the cold rage that someone dared to threaten those she loved. When a hooded man climbed into the royal gardens in the dead of night, the odds of an innocent assignation were poor.
Soft shoes moved from grass to flagstones with only the faintest scuff to betray their wearer. The man was good; Savedra would have to be better. She knew his path—down the arcade and up the stairs, to the glass-paned double doors that led to the prince’s suite. Or the other set that led to the princess’s. And if it were the latter, the little voice that sounded like her mother asked, why did she not merely stand aside and let the deed be done? She would be there to comfort Nikos in the morning, after all.
She moved before she had to answer the question, anger and excitement loosening stiff limbs. On the other side of the arcade, a soldier moved slower and louder. The assassin spun, blade gleaming, and gave Savedra his back.
Too easy.
The impact jolted her arm. The blade slowed on leather, quickened through flesh, then struck bone with a scrape that set her teeth on edge. She braced as the assassin’s weight leaned back against her. She might regret being born a man every time she had a gown fitted, but it meant she was stronger than she looked.
The killer cursed softly, quiet even in death, and tried to pull free. One gloved hand groped backward. Savedra twisted the knife.
Lanterns bloomed in the shadows to blind her and swords rattled. Then Captain Denaris was there, knocking the man’s weapon away, pulling him off Savedra, a soft stream of profanity fit to rust steel hissing from her lips.
“Alive! Alive, damn it! Why is that so bloody difficult?”
“He’s no more threat now,” Savedra said as the man gurgled and bled onto the stones. The words came out ragged; her chest ached. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been holding her breath.
“And no more use.”
“I’ll find out who sent him.” Her vision swam with orange blossoms. She started to rub her watering eyes and stopped just in time.
The captain snorted but didn’t argue. It had taken years—and several dead assassins—for her to trust the prince’s mistress, but now that she did, she never pried into Savedra’s sources.
Savedra turned away from the soon-to-be corpse, reaction setting in now that action had ended. She had only been sick the first time, but she always shook after. Her right hand clenched, blood cooling sticky on her fingers. The raw metallic smell filled her nose and she stumbled to the fountain to wash her hands.
Denaris followed, boots swishing against wet grass. Lantern light picked out strands of grey in her dark hair, showed the pity in her lean and whittled face. “You could have people to do this for you. You should have them. You’d serve him better—”
Savedra shook her head, the weight of her hair tugging sharp against pins. It was an old argument. “I’m no spymaster. And if I have to do this, better my hands be stained for it.” She pulled the hands in question out of icy water and scrubbed them on her skirt.
“Nikos needs a spymaster more than he needs a mistress.”
“Lord Orfion—”
“Isn’t here.” Cold and implacable as a blade. “And likely won’t return.”
“And whose fault is that?” Savedra folded her arms tight across her stomach, as if she could stop it churning so easily.
The captain shrugged, mouth twisting eloquently, but didn’t speak. Not quite treason, to call the king a fool, but hardly politic either. “Fault or no, it’s true. Lord Orfion needs a successor as surely as any king.”
“Then let him name one, Kat. I haven’t the stomach for it.”
Denaris glared, but didn’t belabor what they both knew—Orfion had named a successor, and the king had ignored him and chosen his own replacement. And taken that replacement with him to Ashke Ros, leaving Nikos to get by as best he could with lesser agents.
“May I go?” Savedra asked. “I’d like some sleep before sunrise.” Not a lie, but no matter how much she wanted rest, she knew none would come this morning.
The captain shook her head, but let the matter drop. “Go. We’ll mop up here and search the corpse.”
Savedra turned toward the narrow servants’ hall that led out of the garden. She had a key to Nikos’ rooms, but not the heart to go to him like this. She paused, sodden slippers squelching on the lawn. “What will you tell him?”
“I