her hand. “Hello, darling. You’ve caught me at a rather inopportune moment, I’m afraid. Which is what happens when one doesn’t announce oneself. Or knock.”
“Inopportune? Like the time Mother walked in on you with the twin contortionists?” Her smile ached as she held it in place.
“Acrobats. They were acrobats. And not, I might add, doing anything unusually acrobatic at the time. Your mother likes to exaggerate that story more than it deserves. She didn’t knock either, as I recall. Besides, I’d much rather be walked in on doing something worthy of gossip. This hardly qualifies.”
“Mysterious women are always worthy of gossip.” She curtsied toward the woman on the stool. “Forgive me for interrupting.”
The woman waved a hand dismissively, earning a tsk from the tailor. “Not at all. Few things are more boring than standing still for hours at a time. And now I’m curious about these acrobats.”
Her voice pricked the nape of Savedra’s neck, soft and husky and oddly familiar. But not, as she’d imagined from Iancu’s description, Sarken; this woman’s native tongue was Selafaïn. The words were casual, the woman’s face not quite turned her way, but she felt the weight of her stare like a hand. Her arm throbbed beneath her sleeve. Did they know?
“Is there something I can do for you?” Varis asked.
“I only wanted to say hello. You’ve looked tired lately—” She shrugged, artless concern. That at least was true. For an unannounced evening visit to find anyone else unbuttoned and disheveled was normal; for Varis it was alarming. Beneath his open collar she glimpsed the edge of a dark and ugly bruise, and her blood chilled. She’d seen a similar mark on Isyllt Iskaldur, when the necromancer had delivered her report to Nikos. A vampire bite.
“I have, haven’t I?” He ran a hand over his scalp and sighed, surreptitiously tugging his shirt closed at the neck. “Even debauchery can be exhausting sometimes. The parties multiply so this time of year, and the planning and invitations and costumes…” He gestured toward the tailor.
“I understand. I’ll leave you to it, and to your guest.” She smiled at the woman, but found no hint of an answering expression behind the veil. “We should have lunch sometime. You can come to the palace and scandalize everyone.”
His smile looked like a grimace. “Yes. We should do that.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek, his lips soft and cool. “I appreciate you thinking of your decrepit old uncle.” His hand settled on her back, steering her toward the door so lightly and unobtrusively that she hardly noticed it.
“Buying dresses for other men’s wives?” she asked as they started down the stairs.
“Someone has to. I can’t bear another season of the Hadrians setting fashions.”
He took her arm, and released it again when she flinched. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. A bit of clumsiness, is all.”
Neither her tone nor face faltered, but Varis blanched. His eyes darkened and splotches of color bloomed in his cheeks. “That lie, my dear, is as old as the hills, and unworthy of both of us. Did he hurt you?”
She drew back from his cold rage, tongue slow with confusion. “Did who—No!” Realization made her stomach lurch. “No, of course not!” She forced her voice low when she wanted to shriek. “Nikos has never hurt me. He never would. How can you think that?”
“I’ve seen how the Alexioi treat their pets.” Anger made him a stranger.
“He is not his grandfather.” And so much for saving that particular secret.
Varis’s face twisted, finally settled back into his usual sardonic half-smile. “Indeed. Nor his father either, I suppose. That doesn’t seem to have helped you, does it?”
“He does the best by me that he can. We have both of us always understood how it would be.” Unbidden, the memory of Ashlin’s skin surfaced. She hoped her stinging blush could be taken for anger. “If you act against him—or the princess—you act against me. Please, Uncle. Don’t make us enemies for the sake of a man decades dead.”
He turned away, folding his arms across his chest. “I act for the living and the dead. And I have more cause than you can pry out of your mother.”
“Then tell me! Make me understand this.”
She caught the glitter of his eyes as they rolled upward. Toward the library. “I can’t,” he said softly, and the wrath drained out of him like water. “I don’t want to hurt you, Savedra.”
Her jaw tightened. “You already have.”
He lifted his chin, as chilly and urbane as ever. “Then