Bone Palace, The - Amanda Downum Page 0,45
against the slate and violet dusk. The chill was only a nip now, but promised to bite deep by midnight. This would be the last outdoor party of the season.
When Mathiros returned Savedra might not enjoy her present position near the head of the procession, just behind Ashlin and Nikos. It pushed the limits of propriety and taste to bring one’s mistress and one’s wife to the same parties, and Nikos had already stood up to his father enough where she was concerned that she tried to avoid further confrontation. Tonight it was Ashlin who’d insisted that Savedra attend her—suffer with me, she said—so no one would complain within earshot.
The Canal Sarai had been dug decades ago, a wide curve of water gated and locked to slow the Dis’s deadly rush. History was conflicted as to whether it was named for Saint Sarai, saint of lovers and of sighs, or Princess Sarai Aravind, who had drowned in it not long after completion. The Isle of Cormorants stood between the two waterways, crowded with trees and flowers and hedge-mazes—and gull shit, one imagined. In theory it could only be reached by the palace side, but Savedra had heard tales of enterprising thieves rigging lines across the river to steal fruit. She doubted the haul would be worth the trouble, but the risk and thrill alone might be. In any case, the island was searched thoroughly by soldiers before any barges docked there.
Today colored lanterns hung on both shores, and costly hothouse blossoms bobbed on dark water. The royal barge, the Daphne, dripped with more lamps and bright ribbons, and her oiled canopies rippled in the breeze. The canal looked so innocent dressed in jewels and finery, but it was as black and cold as the Dis, and just as hungry.
Nikos helped Ashlin down the step at the end of the ramp, earning him a narrow glare. A footman stood ready to assist Savedra, but before he could the princess turned and offered her a hand.
“Darling,” Savedra whispered as Ashlin’s calloused fingers tightened around hers, “people will talk.” She could already feel the weight of stares on her back.
Ashlin’s grin was more a baring of teeth. The gold ring in her nose flashed with it. “Let them.”
Her life might be easier with less scandal, but Savedra couldn’t help smiling back. She dipped a shallow curtsy. “As Your Highness wishes.”
Nikos watched them with an expression between amusement and horror; the thought of one’s wife and mistress conspiring together must be terrifying.
But she was only willing to push propriety so far, and didn’t join them on the covered dais at the aft of the barge. Thea Jsutien did, and her niece, and other scions of the eight houses who presently held favor in court. Savedra had told Nikos about the assassin, but without proof it would be no use acting against the Jsutiens, even by a social slight. Better, she supposed, to keep them close, but the sight of Ginevra Jsutien glowing in blue silk and topazes was enough to sour her stomach. Behind them all, Captain Denaris was a lean brown shadow at the back of the dais.
The musicians’ barge floated alongside the Daphne, and the night was bright with songs and voices and laughter, the air heavy with wine and perfume and the bitter-cold smell of the river. Savedra threaded her way through trestle tables laden with food and found a spot near the prow. She missed the days when she could enjoy parties, instead of watching and worrying every time anyone wandered too near the prince or princess.
They made an attractive couple, Nikos and Ashlin, if not a traditional one. He wore green-and-violet peacock finery, aglow with gold and carnelians. She wore black and forest green, slim trousers and high boots and a short jacket, with her hair slicked back to bare the strong bones of her face. Besides the nose ring, the princess wore only the golden torc that was the marriage custom of her people, and two rings—the sapphire Nikos had given her, and the ruby in white gold that marked the royal house of Celanor. If she’d worn a sword—a habit that Savedra had talked her out of—she would have looked like a foreign bodyguard, hired for show as much as skill.
Savedra leaned against the railing, Varis’s caution echoing unpleasantly in her head. Ashlin at least could swim if someone tipped her over the side—Savedra imagined the weight of her skirts and pearls would bear her straight to