The Rose & the Dagger (The Wrath and the Dawn #2) - Renee Ahdieh Page 0,60

in a language of golden slashes hung above the entrance.

As they landed in the small courtyard before the building, a gust of wind riffled a set of brass chimes dangling from the timber eaves. The melody was of the eerie, doleful sort. The sort that clung to one’s bones, long after its notes were lost on the breeze.

It was in step with the empty, ice-laden expanse around them. And the single stone bowl of fire lying squat in the middle of the courtyard. A sputter of blue and orange amid a stretch of black and white.

“Charming, isn’t it?” Artan remarked as he tugged the fur-trimmed hood of his cloak over his bare head.

“It’s . . . different.” Shahrzad pulled her own cloak tighter about her.

“You should see it in winter.”

At that, Shahrzad saw Khalid subdue a smile.

The trio strode toward the entrance, leaving Shesha to slither toward the fire. A set of low doors with a high stone threshold stood before them. Artan removed his sandals, and Shahrzad and Khalid followed suit.

Not a soul had come to greet them.

Which did not bode well with Shahrzad.

The floors were covered in a thick lacquered paper, polished smooth. Their surface was strangely warm. As though a fire burned beneath them. A faint scent of mint floated through the air. At least Shahrzad thought it was mint. Mint mixed with lemons. Or perhaps it was aloe wood?

Artan moved through the narrow hallways with the swift ease of years past. Slender lanterns covered in waxy parchment lit the way before them. They proceeded up a set of stairs and into another set of hallways. As they entered a shadowy corridor—

A creature sprang from the darkness, hissing at Artan.

It was white and lizardlike. Around the size of a small jungle cat. With sharp talons and a smattering of dark spots across its back. The spiked fan along its spine was turned up, and its tail whipped about in warning. As it hissed, drops of saliva struck the lacquered-paper floor, burning holes through its surface. Thin trails of silvery smoke curled in their wake.

“Get back, you tiny menace!” Artan threatened the creature with an upturned, outstretched palm.

Though nothing happened, Shahrzad thought she heard the sizzle of a spark catching flame. The lizard continued spitting in Artan’s direction, its spine arching higher and its yellow eyes glowing.

The soft sound of a woman’s laughter emanated from the other end of the corridor.

“Has Tolu’s son finally returned?”

The woman’s voice was not pleasant. But it was not displeasing, either.

Shahrzad stepped closer to Khalid. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword.

Artan snorted. “Relieve your pitiful excuse for a sentry of her duty, and I’ll tell you.”

A harsh word Shahrzad did not recognize split through the gloom. The lizard retreated. But not without hissing once more at Artan, and spitting near his bare foot for good measure.

“Is it safe for me to proceed, Aunt Isuke?” Artan said, his amusement still evident.

Her low laughter resonated once more. “As safe as you’ll ever be, son of Tolu.”

After exchanging a wary glance, Shahrzad and Khalid followed Artan into a large room with teakwood beams running across its ceiling. A floor of woven rushes extended before them. Seated near a low table in its center was a slender woman who reminded Shahrzad of a bird. Not a bird of song or a bird in flight.

But rather a bird of prey.

Her back was as straight as an arrow, and her eyes were two pieces of flint. Her hair was long and hung about her shoulders like a cape of polished pewter. One thin braid fell behind an ear. Threaded through it was a string of colorful glass beads. Her tunic was trimmed in fur and tied across her chest with a leather cord.

She did not smile when she saw them. She merely quirked her head with interest. Her sloe-eyed look was alert and unwavering.

“You’ve brought friends.” Her gaze drifted to Khalid first. When he remained stone-faced, Isuke turned toward Shahrzad, her eyes lingering.

“I think of them as friends.” Artan grinned. “They may not.”

“The girl agrees,” Isuke confirmed. “The boy does not.” She sniffed the air as though she could discern their thoughts through scent. “Yet.”

“I gathered as much.” Artan laughed.

“Then again”—Isuke cocked her chin in the other direction—“the boy cannot have friends. He does not permit himself the luxury.” She blinked slowly. “For he is shrouded in darkness.”

Khalid’s hand tightened around Shahrzad’s. She swallowed, her eyes meeting Artan’s.

“Don’t be so impressed, little snipe,” Artan teased. “I