Bone Palace, The - Amanda Downum Page 0,93
well to make sure Savedra reached the palace safely. Not that the man could do much if a sorceress attacked, but it made her feel a little better.
“I’ll contact you as soon as I learn anything more,” she said as she helped Savedra into the cab. “Please be discreet.”
Savedra’s glare conveyed a wealth of don’t teach your grandmother to suck eggs, reminding Isyllt again that she was a scion of the Eight, and a skilled courtier besides. She covered Isyllt’s hand with her own grey-gloved one, though, and that spoke only gratitude. “I’ll do the same,” she said as the door closed. “Thank you.”
When the carriage was out of sight, Isyllt slipped into the nearest fog-shrouded alley. A moment later her ring chilled as death breathed over her.
“What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you,” Spider said from behind her. “Keeping an eye on you—I hear of sickness and death in the city.”
“Some might call that pursuance. The law frowns on it.”
This time she followed him more easily as he moved in front of her. Either she was growing used to it or feeding made him slow. His skin was no less pale, but stolen heat suffused his flesh. He stroked her cheek with one long hand. “Some might call it affection.”
A drop of blood glistened black at the corner of his mouth. Isyllt wiped it away with her thumb. “Another willing donor?”
“Do you really want to know?”
His scent filled her nose through the smell of fog and wet stone, and she wanted to lean into it. But she wasn’t tired and lonely tonight; tonight she was working. She caught his wrist and pulled his hand away. After a heartbeat he acquiesced, flesh becoming pliable.
“I hope you don’t leave the bodies lying in the street for constables to trip over.” She scrubbed her hands on her trousers when she let go.
Fangs flashed with his smile. “There’s always the river for that.”
“Yes.” Isyllt thought of the cathedral-cavern beneath the river, of the offerings there. She had dreamed of it too, during the fever, dreamed of finding the swollen corpses of people she knew floating in black water. When she was younger she had dreamed of watching the Vigils pull the corpses of her friends from the slime-slick river gates. Thinking of the corpse-gates set another thought burning in her brain, bright enough that she nearly jumped. “Yes, there is.”
“I thought we might talk tonight,” Spider said. The fog softened the sharp angles of his face, dulled the preternatural glitter of his eyes. Or maybe that was only his glamour trying to draw her close.
She forced a smile. “I’ve been ill for nearly a decad, and I have work to do in the morning. Some other night. You can buy me another drink.”
His mouth curled, close-lipped and very nearly human. “Whenever you wish.” He pressed a cool kiss on her knuckles and faded into the mist.
Isyllt had no intention of sleeping, though she prowled her apartment for a time with the lights dimmed. When she couldn’t take the inaction any longer she changed clothes and put her hair up properly and slipped into the street again. This time she felt no prickle of awareness, no death chill. She knew it would make no difference if Spider were still about, but she took the long way through Archlight’s steep and winding streets nonetheless, twisting and doubling back on her way to Kiril’s house.
The odds of him sleeping at this hour were just as good as her own. Sure enough, she found a light burning in his bedroom window. She didn’t bother to knock, simply laid a hand on the door and let the wards recognize her.
She waited shivering on the doorstep for several moments, till she began to suspect that he’d fallen asleep with the light on. Finally he opened the door, fully dressed and frowning.
“I know it’s an unholy hour,” she said lightly, “but you needn’t look that unhappy to see me.” She meant it as a jest, not a jibe, but he didn’t smile. “What’s the matter?”
“A long night.” He stepped aside slowly, as if reluctant to admit her. He didn’t offer to take her coat. She tried to pretend the ache in her chest was only the aftermath of her illness. “For you as well, I take it.”
The front of the house was nearly as cold as the night outside, and had an air of disuse about it—less the smell of dust as a lack of the usual polish. That in