“Shake?” he said, holding out a pale, long-fingered hand. “Isn’t that what you humans do?”
As if I needed yet another reminder I was playing a game with someone inhuman, pitting my will against something I couldn’t begin to understand. As if I should be touching him and not recoiling. Still, I took his hand, refusing to let him shake my resolve.
He let his grip linger far longer than necessary. “I look forward to playing with you, Kamai.” He leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “A word of warning: you’ll find it difficult to make time for the Keepers and, more importantly, for our game, if you’re busy considering suitors. But I’m always willing to clear your schedule for you, if need be.”
His lips brushed my cheek as fear spiked through me.
Before I could ask if he meant kill some more people, I woke up with a jolt and a gasp, sitting upright in bed. He’d just reminded me that he could influence when I slept or awoke. That he already had a certain amount of control over me.
He’d also as good as slammed the black door in my face, like I had in his. And he’d done it with a kiss, not a kick, which was even more insulting.
And so our game had begun.
I realized Nikha was in my room when she flung herself out of a chair only a second after I’d sat up, her sword ringing out of its scabbard in the same moment.
“Are you all right?” she gasped.
My breath was still coming a little fast. “Yes. I think so. It was just…” I was going to say a nightmare, but then I stopped myself with a swallow.
“Was it … it? Did you see him?”
I didn’t have to ask what she meant. The black door. Vehyn. I nodded. I couldn’t read her expression in the darkness. Part of me was still waiting for her to laugh at me in disbelief.
But she didn’t. “Sorry if I startled you,” she said, quickly sheathing her sword and moving to light a candle. “I just thought, after tonight, that maybe you shouldn’t be left alone.”
Gratitude choked me up more than fear had. “Thank you, Nikha.”
“I don’t deserve thanks, not after nearly letting a lone attacker kill you. Some bodyguard I am. Perhaps it’s a good thing I was never allowed to become one.”
“Don’t say that! You’re the best, Nikha, and the truest friend I’ve ever had. I should be the one still apologizing.” I hesitated. “Speaking of which, the constable…?”
“Gerresh was deemed a disgruntled, unstable madman bent on revenge. The constable decided I was right to kill him in your defense, though they’ll want to get a look at your neck tomorrow as evidence. Other than that, it’s all taken care of, the body removed.”
“Sorry. And thank you,” I repeated. The words seemed inadequate.
“There’s nothing else I can do to help?” Candlelight filled the room with a comforting, soft glow, illuminating Nikha’s concerned face as she turned to me. She didn’t mean with regard to Gerresh. “Maybe you should go immediately to the Keepers with this—”
“No,” I said quickly. “No. There’s nothing to be done about the black door right now. The only thing I can do is figure out what’s going on with Razim and the Twilight Guild, just like the Keepers want me to. That’s the only way to win.” If she was surprised by my reference to winning, she didn’t show it. I held her eyes. “But I do need to meet with them. I need to tell them about Razim and the queen consort. We need a plan of action, and I need a path that isn’t marriage.”
Vehyn had been right about that, I would concede that much. But no more.
I sighed, dreading my next words. “And I need to tell them you’re in on it.”
17
CLANDESTINE MEETIΝGS
The sun wasn’t up yet when Nikha and I departed for the palace, and the heavy, dark sky was pouring rain, but I still looped a scarf over my head to hide the bruising on my neck. We left before Jidras was awake, so I didn’t ask permission to go, something I hoped would displease him.
The excuse I left with one of the servants was that my near brush with death had sent me scurrying for the temple to pray to Heshara and seek a blessing. I’d made sure to bring the note Lenara had given me. It was more of a calling card, with her name scrawled in elegant black script.
Dawn was barely silvering the edge of the stormy clouds above the mountains as we entered the rain-soaked temple grounds. When I presented Lenara’s card to the guards, they blinked at it sternly, as if wanting to find fault with it, but they couldn’t.
The temple was dark and eerily silent when we entered, more like Vehyn’s fortress than ever before. Even the hum of rainfall vanished when the front doors closed fully behind us. Only a few scattered candelabras lit the way to Lenara’s door, casting narrow pools of light on the black-and-white-checkered tiles, leaving the cavernous expanse shrouded in shadow. I suddenly wondered if she’d be in there, if she was even awake.
I knocked softly. After only a moment the door opened. Lenara’s eyes were more anxious than usual, especially when she caught sight of Nikha.
“Is something wrong, Kamai? This is a remarkably unusual hour.” As in, people might notice, and talk. “You may come in, but your guest—”
“She knows everything, Lenara,” I interrupted, my voice barely above a murmur. “We need to talk, but somewhere she can join.” Her eyes narrowed; she knew I meant not in the sleeping realm. “You can trust her, just like you can trust me.” In case that wasn’t enough, I added, “Like you trusted my mother.”
“Wait here.” She closed the door softly, even though I got the sense from her rigid shoulders that she wanted to slam it. She came back thirty seconds later with a folded scrap of paper, torn hastily from another sheet. “Leave now. Go to these quarters in the palace, to this person, and make this introduction.”
“Do we need to go unseen?” I asked, unnerved by her urgency. She’d said the temple wasn’t safe, and apparently she’d meant it.
“No. Better yet, giggle a little, like you’re intoxicated. It’s early enough to still be late for some.”
Nikha and I exchanged a look. What did that mean? “Will you be—?”
“Go.” She shut the door in our faces.
“Coming?” I finished.
* * *
The quarters Lenara had listed were in an especially opulent section of the palace I had never explored. It wasn’t until we passed a few stray people in the hallways, obviously still wearing suits and gowns from the night before, that I realized we were in the wing where many courtiers and courtesans took up residence at the palace if they didn’t have their own homes in the capital.
It also took me a moment to recognize the name beneath the clipped set of directions. But when the door flew open with a flourish in response to my knock, I had no problem remembering.
“Why, Kamai Numa,” Zeniri Sarvotha said, the bright smile falling briefly from his dark face at the sight of me. “You’re probably the last person I was expecting.” He managed to take any sting out of the words with his jovial tone.
But he was right. He was also the last person I was expecting Lenara to send us to. He was a courtier, a pleasure artist no less, and apparently a popular one at that, in the full flower of youthful beauty. He still wore the same clothes from my gala—at least some of them—though my event looked to have been the lightest of his evening entertainments. His plum silk jacket and white sash were gone, his vest and undershirt undone. At least he still had pants on.
Trying to ignore my rising flush, I blurted, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“No, no … but what in the name of Ranta’s tits can I do for you? Need some tips for your wedding night?”
My blush spread, and my eyes seized on the scrap of paper in my hand, on the other line Lenara had written there. “By the night, I seek the light of your aid.”
His smile froze on his face like a mask, and he opened the door all the way without saying anything more. As soon as we were inside, he shut it, locked it, and turned to us. His smile was comp
letely gone. “How do you know that pass-phrase?” he asked, his tone all business, as he crossed to the other end of his lavish sitting room to close the drapes. The space was upholstered in rich oranges and purples, with several closed doors no doubt branching off to a bedchamber and bathroom.
“Because I gave it to her,” Lenara said, stepping out of one of those doors—one that apparently led only to an oversize, overflowing closet.
We all jumped, even Zeniri. “Three hells,” he said, putting a hand to his chest. “Can you, I don’t know, clear your throat before you appear like that?”
I stared at her. “How did you get here?”
“I have my ways of slipping out of the temple and into the palace undetected,” she said, straightening her gray, nondescript cloak with exaggerated dignity, “and this room is the safest in the palace. But still, this is a risk. A huge risk.”
I blinked at Zeniri, the realization hitting me. “Wait, you’re a Keeper?” That meant he was a soulwalker. One who, as a popular courtier specializing in the pleasure arts, routinely slept alongside some of the highest-ranked nobility and officials in the capital.
Zeniri folded his arms and arched a well-manicured eyebrow. “I would be asking you the same thing, but because I am a Keeper, I know not to openly talk about it … and also that Lenara was planning to approach you. Still, I hadn’t realized you’d come so far.”
“She took the vow a few days ago,” Lenara said, and then turned to Nikha. “But she didn’t, so I’d dearly like to know what all of this is about, Kamai. You are putting my trust to the test.”
“You can still trust me, and I promise you can trust her too,” I said quickly as a defensive look settled on Nikha’s face. “I had to tell her, Lenara. She’s been my friend and guardian since I arrived in Jidras’s household. She’s skilled enough to be a royal bodyguard, besides. The only reason she isn’t one is because she’s a woman.” Lenara’s expression remained stony, so I kept going. “She already knows I’m a soulwalker”—I didn’t specify for how long—“and she fought off Razim once at the market and saved my life last night, after my gala, from a guard who nearly strangled me. After all of that, I owed her the truth. She’s the one person I can trust with my life. I need her.”
I was leaving out everything about Vehyn and his influence over me. I hoped it would let Nikha know just how much of the truth I’d trusted her with.
“What of the oath you swore us?” Lenara asked. “The loyalty you owe us?”
I squared my shoulders. “I promised my life and soul to Heshara and the Keepers. I didn’t promise my freedom of thought and judgment. If you want to claim my life now, then do it, but I can’t unsay what I told Nikha, and I wouldn’t if I could.”
I felt a hand on my back, supporting me. Nikha’s.
Lenara’s eyes narrowed at me, as if weighing my resolve. Her gaze found my throat, where my scarf had slipped aside to reveal the bruising. Her expression softened. “What was his name?” she asked finally. “Your attacker’s?”
Nikha told her.
“We don’t know if he was sent by anyone in particular,” I added, “or if he was merely seeking revenge after I walked in his soul and found it … wrong … and Nikha relieved him from duty.”
“I’ll look into it. Is that all?”
I suddenly felt silly—perhaps nearly dying and even Nikha knowing about the Keepers weren’t big enough excuses to meet like this. But I did still have something to share. “I came face-to-face with Razim last night. You’re right that he’s been looking for me, but he was less than forthcoming about his own plans. Yet—”
“Wait.” Lenara held up a hand, cutting me off. “Have you walked in Nikha’s soul?”
I flinched. Despite my guilt, I had to be honest, and perhaps honesty would help Lenara trust Nikha. “Yes. And it’s beautiful. One of the most beautiful I’ve seen.”
“Good enough. You,” she said to Nikha, “don’t get to hear another word until you swear yourself to us.”
Zeniri coughed. “Um. Is she a soulwalker?”
“No, but she is the nearest thing we currently have to a licensed bodyguard, and Kamai needs protection. Keepers haven’t always only been soulwalkers. Just usually. Mostly. Perhaps wisely.” Each qualifier was like a blow aimed at Nikha.
They might as well have bounced off Nikha’s leather tunic for all the damage they did. “You know, what’s wise is not allowing your sworn members to get abducted from markets or killed in dark allies,” she said, her voice low. “I protected her, and I’ll continue to do so.”
“For Heshara’s and the Keepers’ sake, no doubt,” Lenara said.
Nikha and I exchanged a glance. I well knew how she felt about Heshara.
Lenara read the look and threw up her hands. “Make foolish bargains with your soul at your peril. Goddesses aren’t known to be forgiving. But that is the only way we’ll proceed here.”
And so it was, right there, in the unlikeliest of places, without hesitation, that Nikha swore her life and her soul to Heshara and the Keepers, just like I had done, and for reasons as murky as mine.
Lenara wasn’t terribly impressed, more irritable. “Now that that’s settled, I’m going to sit down, because I’m not as young as the rest of you.” She stalked over to an orange satin couch. “Kamai, you were saying about Razim…?”
And so I told them. About his … interest … in me, his hints at revenge, and the queen consort being his mother.
I expected Lenara to appear surprised at the very least, but she only nodded, and Zeniri said, “Of course.”
“Of course?”
“Your mother knew Razim was the queen consort’s son,” Lenara said, shooting Zeniri a glare. “She gleaned the secret from Hallan years ago, though it was tightly kept.”
I gaped. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“Your mother clearly hadn’t told you, and an oath, even on your soul, doesn’t mean I can entirely trust you.” She gave both me and Nikha a look.
I struggled to ignore the sting of your mother clearly hadn’t told you. “But how could the queen consort hide a pregnancy with a kingdom so desperate for an heir?”
“She had to precisely because we’re so desperate. A priest or priestess could determine paternity, and the so-called heir would have been uncovered as a bastard. Her affair would have been brought to the attention of the king—as it perhaps was nearly two decades later, and you saw what happened. Anyway, the methods used to hide such a thing aren’t all that complex, as long as the mother in question has people she can trust. An illness that keeps her shut away, a lengthy visit to a countryside estate … If I recall, the queen consort used both excuses together.”
“And afterward, Razim quietly went to live with his father?” I guessed, still stunned.
Lenara nodded, propping her feet on a polished coffee table. As a priestess, she was accustomed to getting comfortable with guests, but it was Zeniri’s turn to shoot her a disapproving look. “Your mother, pregnant with you, soon joined them. She didn’t wish to stay with Jidras Numa after she discovered her situation. She was already a dual member of the Keepers and the Twilight Guild—a fact unbeknownst to the latter, of course—and so the guild facilitated the arrangement as an excuse, encouraging Marin and Hallan to pose as a married couple. It had the added benefit that such a rosily painted picture of a family more easily won over their patrons’ trust. It was almost too perfect for us, as well. We would have sheltered and cared for your mother as a Keeper, of course, but this way she was in the home of one of the guild’s most suspect members. Hallan’s … activity … with the queen consort had us highly curious.”
Lenara knew so much already that I wondered what she might need from me at all. Feeling especially silly to have brought everyone here like this, I couldn’t keep my shoulders from sagging. To my surprise, it was Zeniri who patted them.
“You did well. Your connection to the boy is invaluable. That’s quite the discovery for a first meeting, and without even
bedding him! Think what you’ll be able to learn once you do.”
“What?” I nearly choked. “You expect me … You want me to…?”
“Of course they don’t—” Nikha began, stepping closer to me protectively.
Zeniri muttered, “Well, you’re certainly not going to charm him with your eloquence.”
We all looked to Lenara on the couch. She scratched the corner of her mouth, almost as if she was trying not to smile. “You did want an alternative to marriage, Kamai, and we need you here in court. As soon as you shun the more traditional path your father has laid out for you, he’ll inevitably disown you. The Keepers are willing to take you in, provide you with shelter and support, but only if it’s worth our while.” Only if you earn your keep, she meant. “Becoming a favored courtesan would be the best possible way for you to find out as much as possible about what’s going on. I was planning to apprentice you to Zeniri.”
“As a pleasure artist?” I tried to keep the raw horror from my voice.
“I thought, with your background, your mother’s background, and your abhorrence of marriage, this was the most obvious solution.”
“And you’d think, as the daughter of Marin Nuala, you wouldn’t need a tutor in the first place,” Zeniri said under his breath again. Lenara shot him another look.
“She’s just a girl!” Nikha practically erupted.
“She’s an adult,” Lenara said. “What do you think of such an arrangement, Kamai?”
Everyone looked at me, waiting. I wanted to flee the room.
18
DEEPEST SELVES
“I … I…” The first coherent string of words that I was able to spit out was “I can’t sleep with Razim.” Or with anyone was what I really wanted to add.
“Why not?” Zeniri demanded, putting his hands on his hips. “You have a history together, and you also have a duty to us. Besides, he’s excessively handsome. But I’m not his type, unfortunately. You clearly are. Is it a matter of nerves?”
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