Bone Palace, The - Amanda Downum Page 0,55
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 Nikos when Isyllt Iskaldur came to the palace, shaken and bruised and grey as paste, to report that Lychandra’s jewelry had been recovered and the thieves dealt with. Nikos had been pleased with the timely handling of the situation, but it was clear that Isyllt was still troubled.
The idea of blood-drinking demons creeping through tombs was troubling indeed, and Savedra still wondered what knowledge of them Varis was hiding. After a quiet inquiry around Phoenix House, she’d learned that he’d been distracted lately, underslept and much more subdued than usual. It might be nothing but one of his countless affairs, but the confluence of events sent unease worming through her gut. Between family intrigues and machinations at court, she had learned to trust that sensation.
She concentrated on the blur of cards, and wondered if she could read the future from them the way some fortunetellers claimed to.
Ashlin pushed the curtain aside and tugged the window open. The cold draft pricked gooseflesh on Savedra’s limbs, and cut through the scent of oiled mail and leather and warm flesh that she hardly noticed anymore. She caught a glimpse of low grey sky and hills dark with winter-brown oaks; soon the road would rise into the pine and juniper forests that skirted the mountains. When the carriage was unpleasantly cold the princess shut the window again and leaned back against her seat, blowing her tousled fringe out of her eyes.
“Should I leave my hair this way?” she asked, brushing at the dye-dulled strands.
“No,” Savedra answered immediately, lifting the latch that held the narrow plank table to the wall. Hinges creaked as it lowered. “It’s hideous. You have beautiful hair. What you ought to do is grow it out.”
“All it does is tangle and get in my eyes.”
Savedra lifted a hand to her own wild hair, bound up for travel and still frizzing free of its pins. “I have no sympathy. Anyway, you have maids to style it for you.”
Ashlin frowned. “No one’s brushed my hair for me since my mother died.”
“Let Nikos do it—he spent long enough learning to brush mine.”
The princess’s frown twisted sideways. “Probably not. I might let you, though. I trust you around me with knives, after all, so why not combs?”
“Combs don’t attract attention,” Savedra said automatically, slapping cards onto the table, “and are just as easy to poison.” One of the first attempts on her life had been a gift of poisoned combs. She was careful now to buy her own, and never from the same shop.
Ashlin’s eyebrows climbed. “Is it safe to be trapped in a carriage with you?”
“Probably not. It’s a good thing you have a sword.” She collected her hand and winked over the cards. “Your move, Your Highness.”
They stopped that night at a crossroads inn