Beneath the Veil

by Megan Hart

  "Of course I am. I've been afraid my whole life." For some reason, that made me laugh. "No, that's another lie. I'm not afraid any longer. If I wasn't who I am, I might not have been able to be part of this revolution."

  "I didn't know. I really didn't know." She shook her head again, then reached to stroke down the length of my hair once more. "You're so beautiful. I could never have imagined you are the same as I am."

  I took her hand, our fingers entwined. "Women can be beautiful too, Galya."

  She shook her head and bit at her lip again. "Oh, no. Beauty is for men."

  "You don't believe that."

  She gave me a curious look. "It's not a question of belief. 'Tis the truth."

  "I look at you, and I see beauty. You don't need cosmetic or fancy clothes to enhance it." I touched the soft curls on her head. "And I think a short hairstyle like this would be far more practical."

  That made her laugh again, and she hugged me. "I feel like such a fool."

  "You shouldn't."

  She leaped nimbly to her feet. "I'm ready for you to teach me more."

  That made me smile. "Fighting, not something else?"

  "You are like a man."

  I couldn't take insult at her words. "It's all I've ever known how to be."

  "'Tis not such a horrible thing."

  "You can say that truly?"

  She nodded and rubbed my shoulder. "I judge people on their actions, not what they carry between their legs. If I give myself up to hate for the sake of hate, nothing but evil will come of it."

  "Daelyn says the same thing." I grimaced at the thought of Rosten's face, beaming, as he watched the woman burn. "I'm not so noble."

  Galya bent, picked up the dagger and held it out in front of her with perfect poise. "Teach me how to defend myself."

  So I did.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  A cold and darkness fell over Alyria that was not solely due to the arrival of winter. Snow coated the streets and buildings with white that quickly became gray from ash and soot. Daelyn and his lords began a new fashion of hats and cloaks lined with the fur of the elusive dahveet, a mountain cat. Hunting the cat gave them the perfect excuse to go out into the hills and continue their nighttime escapades. Though the longer nights gave greater opportunity at escape, the bitter cold and frequent storms made it nearly impossible to send the women and children across the border into Elitan.

  We used the time, instead, to spread the word of our plans among the city's women. We needed to use caution lest the words fall into the wrong ears, whether by carelessness or from a woman who held more loyalty to the man of her house. What surprised me was not how many women came to the bath houses ready to do more than cleanse their bodies. What stunned me was how many did not.

  "You're threatening their entire existence," Daelyn told me after one evening spent in the bathhouse with no new converts to our cause.

  "But we're offering them their freedom!"

  "At what price? I told you this would be no easy cause. These women have known nothing else their entire lives. We're asking them to do the impossible."

  "It's not impossible."

  He laughed at my expression as I stripped him out of his clothes. He no longer insisted on privacy in the bath, since I already knew his truth, and in fact, he reveled in my being able cater to his every need in a way he'd never before experienced.

  I poured scented oil into his bath and helped him scrub himself all over, then poured heated water over him to rinse into the drain in the floor. When he was clean, I helped him into the steaming water.

  "You could do this yourself," I grumbled, but good-naturedly.

  "But it's so much nicer when you do it." His wicked grin made me laugh.

  "You just spent all night in a bathhouse, only to come home and bathe alone. I wonder at your sense sometimes."

  "Eight months ago you'd have pissed yourself before saying such things to me." He didn't sound angry, only sleepily content. "Be a love and wash my hair."

  I gave an exaggerated sigh, but filled a pitcher with clean hot water. "You are impossible."

  He wriggled in the water. "But you adore me."

  I had no answer for that, because he was right. I looked over his body as I worked the thick lather into the length of his amber hair. But for the swelled buds of his breasts, smaller even than mine, and the lack of equipment between his legs, Daelyn did not look like the other women I'd grown used to seeing naked. He didn't even need to bind his chest, for the small buds of his breasts could easily pass for pads of muscle. His waist and hips were trim and his stomach flat. Like my own body, he'd exercised himself into lean muscularity, but even I boasted more curves than he.

  "You're staring."

  He'd opened his eyes. I poured another pitcher of hot water over his hair, then wrapped the length of it in a thick towel. I wasn't embarrassed to have been caught staring, but it did seem impolite to comment.

  "I take a drug," he said quietly.

  "What?"

  "A drug. A powdered root. I've taken it since childhood. It kept my bosom from growing and my flow from regularity. It likely left me infertile, as well, though I don't know for certain since I've never been properly fucked by a man."

  "Not even –" the words blurted out of me before I could stop them.

  He looked amused. "Not even Lir, no. I can't risk pregnancy. I'm sure you can understand that."

  "Does the drug make you sick?"

  "Sometimes. But I don't think it'll kill me, if that's what you're asking. It makes me nauseous when I take it without food, and I think it's the reason why my flow is so painful and heavy despite its infrequency. But it's worth the price, for I've gone bare-chested in front of my men with none the wiser to my condition. I doubt you could say the same."

  "No." I put aside the pitcher and the soap. "Shall I ring for some supper, or will you take it elsewhere?"

  "I don't fancy going out in that cold tonight. Here will be fine. Send word to the others. We'll have a fine feast here in my chambers. Have the cook prepare something warm and spicy."

  "And are you ready to get out of the tub, my prince? Or shall I leave you to simmer awhile longer as well?"

  He made a shooing motion with his hand. "Let me soak until I'm as wrinkled as an oliphant. There's plenty of time."

  I left him to his luxury and decided to walk down to the kitchen myself to oversee the night's meal. Though the rooms were overwarm from the huge fireplaces and wood-stoves, the halls were chilly. I rubbed my fingers together to warm them, and at the last moment took a quick jog down a darkened corridor toward a back set of stairs that would let me reach the kitchen much sooner than the regular route.

  I felt oddly content as I hurried through the dark hall. I had a place, now. A function. A purpose. I had friends, and I had love, even if it wasn't exactly of the sort about which poems were written. I was...happy.

  The thought made me pause, a whistle on my lips. Happy. There had been few times in my life when I could recall feeling this way. I liked it.

  "Well, if it isn't the fetchencarry."

  The voice curled out of the darkness and was followed an instant later by Vermonte himself. Clothed in gray and black, he'd blended almost perfectly into the shadows. Only the glowing ember of the tip of his cheroot gave away his presence – that and the sudden feral brightness of his teeth as he grinned.

  From Vermonte's mouth the word became an insult. I bristled, my happiness fleeing in front of Vermonte's nastiness.

  "What are you doing here, my little fetchencarry?" His voice was slurred, and I smelled the sweet tang of herb on his breath as he leaned close to me and flicked the tassel on one of my shoulders.

  "I'm going to order some dinner."

  "Ah." He puffed again on his cheroot, then blew a gust of smoke into my face and made me cough. "And am I to be invited to the sumptuous repast, or is that honor to be saved for Daelyn's current favorites?"

  I pretended not to notice the bitter
ness in his tone. "He told me to summon all his friends."

  "And I guess I can no longer count myself among that number."

  I moved to walk past him, but he countered my steps and blocked my path. I waited a moment, then tried again. Once more he stepped in front of me, so close his chest brushed against mine.

  "Daelyn won't be pleased if his dinner is delayed."

  He gave a derisive snort. "Daelyn is not much pleased with me anyway. And who do I have to thank for that, I wonder?"

  I refused to rise to his bait and answer his obvious taunt. I moved again, expecting him to block me, and he didn't disappoint. I could smell worm on his breath too, not just herb.

  He stood only half a head taller than me, but it wasn't his height that intimidated me. It was the fury I sensed bubbling beneath his smug exterior. Vermonte had been a formidable foe before, and I had no doubt he'd do his damnedest to beat me in another fight.

  "I only want to go down to the kitchen. I don't want to fight you."

  "Afraid of me?"

  Anger sparked my response. "No."

  "Because you know you can hide beneath Daelyn's wings again?"

  "Because I know I can best you again, Vermonte, and just as quickly and as well as I did the last time!"

  He cuffed my ear before I could move, but when his next blow came at me I ducked it and he struck the wall, instead. He cursed and turned to face me. I took a deep breath and prepared to fight him.

  Standing Crane. Crouching Cat. Coiled Serpent. The patterns fluttered through my head and passed through my arms to my hands. I moved, and Vermonte moved. We came together in that shadowed hallway so fast that even if it had been lit with a dozen lamps we would have been blurs to each other's eyes.

  Vermonte had been practicing. I should've been flattered. I didn't have time to think on it. He'd not only been working hard on his training, he'd been working on his street fighting, too. He ducked beneath my swing and punched his fist into my gut. The blow knocked the breath from me and flung me against the wall hard enough to rattle the snuffed metal lamps on the wall. I let the air rush out of me to absorb the blow, even as he hit me again. The face this time, and I did not imagine the crunching of my nose as blood burst out of it.

  I ducked as he swung again, and drove my shoulder into his stomach. He grunted and stumbled back. I hit him with both my fists, with power but not much grace. For a moment I'd lost The Art, and he took advantage to push me down. I hit the floor full on the back of my head. He was upon me before I could shake the stars swimming in my vision.

  He reached for the front of my tunic which. The cold wind of the corridor covered my naked flesh as Vermonte staggered back from how quickly the cloth had released from my body. He didn't move far enough for me to get away.

  I rolled from my back to my knees. The binding cloth slipped loose from across my breasts. I clutched at it, then let it fall. It could no longer matter. I got to my feet as the length of material tangled around my hips and thighs. I pushed it away and turned to face Vermonte before he could get in another strike.

  The hall was dark, but apparently not dark enough.

  "Invisible Mother." I'd heard the words used as a prayer and as a curse, and I had no doubts as to which way Vermonte meant them this time. "Bloody bollocks and shite! You've got tits!"

  Without the binding cloth and the tight tunic, my arms were freer than before to move through the patterns and arcs of The Art. Crouching Dragon. Coiled Serpent. And I waited for him to move against me again.

  Vermonte let out a long breath scented with worm and herb. He gave a low chuckle. "It's going to feel even better to whip you this time."

  I didn't bother correcting him. I saved my breath for something more important than taunts. He came at me, and I met him. Up, down, to the side, I struck and struck again. I kicked high and knocked him on the shoulder. Down low, to take out one of his knees. I was winning.

  I shouldn't have forgotten Vermonte had no qualms about cheating. Nor should I have let it slide from my mind that he was certainly armed. The blade flashed in what little light the corridor held, and it stung the flesh of my forearm as I blocked the blow.

  The cut was deep enough, and it bled fiercely. The blood looked black, not red.With an unintelligible roar, I moved. The side of my hand, fingers held straight and stiff, crunched his nose. The fingers on my other hand punched his windpipe and sent him gasping and gagging, down to one knee. I kicked him in the face as hard as I could. The dagger clattered to the marble floor and skittered away from us. I whirled to gather force and kicked him again.

  My blood spattered both of us. The wound's sting only forced me to further rage. I've heard it said that in the thick of battle, one does not think. One only acts. That night, though, I did think. I thought of the time Vermonte had beaten me before, and how he had cheated to do so. Of his taunts. Every memory seemed crystal clear in my thoughts, in my head, and with another roar, I dove for the dagger.

  The blade cut my fingers but I didn't care. He died with little more than a sigh and a burst of heat as his blood gushed over my fingers from the slit in his throat. His body slid further down along the wall, his arms and legs sprawled.

  I dropped the dagger and wiped my hands on the legs of my trousers. Only then did I realize how my nipples had pebbled from the cold, and the flesh of my arms had humped into gooseflesh. I shuddered, all at once sick in the aftermath of what I had done, and bent to grab up my shredded clothes. The binding cloth had tangled into a useless heap, and with trembling fingers, I tore at the knots until they loosed.

  At any moment, I expected someone to come. One of Rosten's guards, perhaps, or even the Book Monster himself. I wrapped myself in the cloth but could do nothing for the remains of my tunic. Though it made my gorge rise to do so, I tugged off Vermonte's fine linen vest and slipped my arms through it. In places, his blood had saturated it.

  I returned to Daelyn's chambers to find him rolling some, and the sweet tang of herb filled the room. He dropped them. "Invisible Mother, Aeris! What happened to you?"

  "I killed Vermonte."

  His mouth dropped open, and he sat back down. "You didn't."

  I pulled off the vest and threw it to the ground, unable any longer to stand the feeling of Vermonte's blood on my skin. Without another word, I went to my privy chamber and filled the basin with water, cold, for I had no desire to wait for it to heat. I scrubbed my hands and when the water turned pink, I emptied it and poured more. The cut on my arm opened up and I washed that, too. I took a cloth and scrubbed my chest and arms, all the places his blood had soiled me, and I took one of my flow cloths from behind the basket where I kept them and used it to bind my arm.

  Daelyn watched me without speaking from the doorway. When I'd finished my harsh cleansing, he handed me a length of clean binding cloth and a soft undertunic without a word. I took the materials just as quietly and covered myself. My hands no longer shook.

  "I can't find it in myself to be sorry," I said at last, when I'd dressed. I met his eyes. "Vermonte was a fucking bastard."

  Daelyn lifted a brow. "I don't disagree with you, sweet, but to kill him seems rather excessive."

  I held out my arm. "He cornered me in an empty corridor and tried to fight me again, and he cheated. Again. And...and he saw me for what I am."

  "I see."

  "You don't see!" Truth be told, I didn't quite see myself. I sat on the edge of the tub, which bit into the tender flesh at the back of my thighs. "I killed him."

  "I believe you mentioned that. And no dinner, I suppose."

  I almost shouted at him, but the look in his eyes stopped me. "No, my prince. No dinner. I didn't make it to the kitchen."

  "You know I can't let this go unnoticed. Vermonte may no longer have had my favor, but he'd been currying Rosten's. If he simply disappears, 'twill be noticed. And you did nothing with the body, I'm guessing, which means it's most likely been discovered by now."

  I clenched my fists. "I didn't think."


  Daelyn shrugged, and sighed. "Sinder's Balls, Aeris, I only wanted a quiet night at home. No intrigue. No battles. Not even any sex, by the Arrow. And now...this."

  "I'm sorry."

  He put a hand on my shoulder. "And you wonder why I hesitated to include you in my work?"

  I stood and managed not to shrug off his touch by sheer will. "I'll go and remove the body right now. I'll take care of it. I'll...."

  "You'll do naught of the sort. You'll go back down to the kitchen and bring up some food. You'll call for the others to come for a fine night's entertainment in my quarters. You'll be certain to go to extend the invitation to Vermonte, and when you don't find him in his quarters, you'll be sure to ask one of Rosten's goons to pass along the message he's expected at my party. And you'll do no more than that."