Daughter of Dusk

by Blackburne, Livia

  Kyra thought she could sense some of this tension in the careful smiles and polite conversations around her. “What do I need to know about Edlan and Parna?”

  Tristam led her to a table, where a bowing servant handed him two glasses of sparkling wine. “Think of our three city-states as three brothers,” he said, passing her a glass and lowering his voice. “Forge is the eldest, with a respectable inheritance of rich farmland and plentiful forests. We have the most people, the most fealty from families who live outside the city proper, and access to the best trade routes. Edlan is the second brother, living at the base of the Aerins in a harsher clime. They’re a hearty city and a tough people, but they’re always feeling second-best.”

  Kyra wondered if the Edlanese folk would agree with that assessment. “And Parna?”

  “Parna is the young upstart who, while the two elder siblings were squabbling, stumbled upon a fortune of his own.”

  Kyra sipped her wine, savoring the feel of the bubbles against her tongue. “Your comparisons are getting unwieldy, Tristam.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Fair enough. Parna lies at the fork of the Vera River. She’s the smallest and youngest city-state out of the three, but she’s also extremely fortunate in her location and resources. The Parnans discovered some lucrative mines about two hundred years ago that have served them well. The river also provides an excellent defense for them, so the Parnan government spends its money on arts and learning instead of large armies. I visited their Palace once. They have poets and bards in residence, philosophers holding court every evening. It’s really quite impressive.”

  “Are the Councils of Edlan and Parna similar to ours?”

  “Edlan doesn’t have a Council, actually. It’s ruled by Duke Symon. He has his advisers, but they have very little power to overrule his decisions, whereas every decision made in Forge has to pass a majority vote. Parna has two Councils: one like ours and another that’s chosen by the people every—”

  Tristam stopped short as someone clapped him on the shoulder. Kyra turned to see a young nobleman even taller than Tristam, looking them over with a broad smile on his face.

  “Enjoying the festivities?” said the newcomer.

  Tristam leaned back, eyes wide, before his face also split into a grin. “Henril! I didn’t know you would be here.” He clasped Henril’s arm with his free hand and turned to Kyra. “This is my eldest brother. I’ve not seen him in two years. Henril, this is Kyra, also under Malikel’s command.”

  Brother. Henril had wider shoulders than Tristam, a heavier frame, and lighter hair, but the two men shared the same long face and tall nose. Henril took Kyra’s hand and bowed low over it. “A pleasure to meet you, Kyra. Word of your deeds reaches even into the countryside.”

  Kyra wondered briefly just exactly what those deeds entailed. “Are you the brother who stole sweets from the kitchen and blamed it on Tristam?”

  Henril laughed. “I’m wounded you would think such a thing, Lady Kyra. I would never betray my sibling for something as trivial as sweets.”

  “It’s true,” said Tristam. “He preferred to steal meat pies.”

  The two brothers were still grinning at each other, clearly looking forward to catching up. Henril looked friendly enough, but Kyra didn’t want to be the one holding back the conversation. “I’m sure you have much to talk about,” she said. “I should go check if Malikel needs me for anything.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Tristam, looking hesitantly between her and Henril.

  She gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “If I can survive in a forest of demon cats, I’ll survive some time by myself in the ballroom. I’ll be back soon.”

  Tristam gazed after Kyra’s retreating form. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at her tonight, and he wondered if she’d noticed him gawking earlier. Compared with the fashionable noblewomen around them, Kyra was underadorned. Her dress had no embroidery, and she wore no jewelry or face paint. But she had a way of bringing elegance to anything she wore. The silk of her dress skimmed her subtle curves and swirled in response to her movements in a way that was simply captivating.

  But Henril was here, and Tristam had already let the conversation lag too long. He turned back to his brother. “She’s not usually quite so scared. Diplomatic balls aren’t exactly her element.”

  Henril crossed muscled arms over his broad chest. “I can imagine, if all I’ve heard is true. Did she really try to assassinate Malikel?”

  “That she did. I found her on the ledge outside his bedroom wall. She almost got away.” He saw her as she’d been that night, how well she’d faded into the shadows, how impossibly fleet she’d been once she started running.

  “I hear you tackled her. Kind of an unfair advantage, I’d say,” Henril said.

  Tristam laughed at that one. “Don’t judge her by her size. She’s better with a dagger than I, and I was fighting for my life. I’m glad she’s on our side now.”

  “Is there anything more to that?” asked Henril, his expression carefully neutral. “Other than being on the same side?”

  “No. We’re comrades-in-arms. Nothing more.” Tristam wasn’t sure why he’d told that lie, and he despised himself as soon as it came out. Tonight, of all nights, it was clear to him that they were not simply “comrades-in-arms.” But he found that he couldn’t take the words back either. To answer any other way would have raised questions that Tristam didn’t yet know how to answer. Especially since nothing between him and Kyra had actually been said.

  Henril tilted his head in a gesture that didn’t convey much confidence at all in Tristam’s words, and Tristam decided to change the subject. “How have things been at home?”

  At this, Henril’s expression darkened and he hunched his shoulders as if huddling against a cold wind. “Not good. Demon Rider attacks have been increasing these past few weeks. Father and I have been riding the grounds every day, and we sent for Lorne to return as well.”

  Lorne was Tristam’s second brother. “That bad?” said Tristam.

  Henril lifted the sleeve of his tunic to reveal a bandage around his forearm. “Got that from a demon cat two weeks ago.”

  Tristam’s chest tightened at the sight. Demon Rider attacks on Forge itself had all but stopped since James’s capture, but they still happened in the countryside. He’d known this, but it was a very different thing to see his wounded brother in front of him. And here he’d been, enjoying the respite. “It’s strange the attacks have increased so much in the countryside, even taking into account that the barbarians avoid the city proper. If things are this bad, perhaps I should return home too.”

  His brother shook his head. “No, it’s good to have someone within earshot of the Council. Father, Lorne, and I can handle the manor for now. Just keep an eye out for messages from us. We might need your help on short notice.”

  Kyra had no sooner stepped into Malikel’s field of vision than the Defense Minister waved her over. “Kyra, we’ve need of you.”

  She hesitated. Though she’d told Tristam she was going to see Malikel, Kyra realized now that she hadn’t actually meant to follow through. Well, Malikel had seen her. She steeled herself and approached.

  Kyra didn’t recognize the majority of officials standing around Malikel, and the one face she did recognize, Kyra was not at all happy to see. Head Councilman Willem had no special love for Kyra, and he made no secret of it.

  “You already know Councilman Willem,” said Malikel. “This is Duke Symon of Edlan and Lord Alvred, the Edlan defense minister.”

  Perhaps this was the day for noticing family resemblances, because Kyra was struck by the similarity between Duke Symon’s and Willem’s features—something about the thin line of their lips and the way their well-trimmed eyebrows angled in on their foreheads. Kyra seemed to remember hearing that the two were distant cousins and that this relation was why Forge had been able to maintain peace with Edlan in recent years. She shifted her gaze to Lord Alvred, whom she now recognized as the lar
ge man she’d seen with Malikel earlier. He towered over her, and Kyra imagined that his hefty limbs might have been solid with muscle in his youth. Even now that he had a softer physique, Kyra got the impression he could crush her with very little effort. This was the man who would be Malikel’s archenemy should war arise. Kyra wondered how they got along in times of peace.

  “Lord Alvred had some questions about the Demon Riders,” said Malikel. “They’ve had a few attacks in Edlan as well.”

  Alvred leaned over Kyra, absently smoothing down his mustache. “Is it true that they and their cats are the same type of creature?”

  That was an easy enough question. “It’s true,” she said. “I saw them change shape many times.”

  He raised his eyebrows in keen interest. “And what have you found to be the best way of fighting them?”

  “Spears, sir.” Military strategy was Tristam’s domain, but Kyra had been around long enough to answer at the simplest level. “That and telling folk to stay out of their way. They’re usually going for livestock, though they’re ruthless if you attack them.”

  Alvred had a few follow-up questions, and Kyra found she could answer them to his satisfaction. Other officials came to their circle as she spoke, and the air around her grew warmer with the crowd. Apparently, the Demon Riders were high in everybody’s interest. As she spoke, Kyra became self-conscious about her lowborn speech. She was tempted to try to match the wallhuggers’ smoother consonants and intonation, but she suspected she’d only come across as foolish.

  Alvred downed his wine in one swig. “This is all very interesting,” he said. “We’ve not found the Demon Riders to be much of a threat in Edlan. We did have a few attacks, which we fought off. After that, the barbarians have left us alone. Perhaps they’ve found easier marks elsewhere.”

  The insult didn’t go unnoticed. All eyes went to Malikel, who looked to be suppressing a smile. “I congratulate you, Alvred, on the success of your excellent army.”

  “It’s colder and rockier near Edlan, in’t it?” said Kyra. “Mayhap the Demon Riders just prefer warmer weather.”

  Alvred peered down his nose at her. “And you would presume to know the minds of the barbarians? What kind of training does a girl like you have in warfare?”

  Kyra flushed and squared her stance. “No formal learning, sir, but you’ll remember I was their prisoner for a month.”

  Head Councilman Willem cleared his throat. His presence was commanding enough that everyone looked to him, though he didn’t start talking until the pretty serving girl attending him had finished refilling his glass. “You raise a good question, Alvred, and one that we at Forge might do well to remember. Kyra of Forge”—he emphasized the city name, subtly underscoring Kyra’s lack of affiliation with a noble house—“is a former assassin who was convicted of high treason, a member of the very group who first brought the Demon Riders against Forge. Certainly an unconventional choice to ask for counsel when the city’s safety is at stake. But Malikel’s choice in subordinates has always been unique.”

  Kyra choked at Willem’s words. Willem had been the one to recruit Kyra into the Palace service after the pardon. How dare he reframe things now to cast suspicion on Malikel?

  She might eventually have found her voice, but Malikel spoke first. “Thank you, Willem,” he said mildly. “Kyra is valuable to us precisely because of her history with the Assassins Guild. Her experience with them and as a prisoner of the Demon Riders gives her a perspective that we lack. Any tome on strategy will fall short upon meeting an unfamiliar enemy. Sometimes firsthand experience is the best.” He turned to Kyra. “I believe we’ve heard all we need from you. You are dismissed.”

  Tristam intercepted her before she could go very far, looping his arm into hers as if they were any one of the elegant couples in the ballroom.

  “Don’t leave.” He spoke conversationally and looked out over the crowd, though there was a layer of compassion in his tone. “If you let him know he’s upset you, then he’s won. It’s all part of the game.”

  Kyra let him guide her through the revelers, frustrated that he’d read her intentions so easily and wondering how much he’d overheard. “Can we go somewhere quieter at least? I can’t stomach much more of this.”

  “How about here, by the wall?” He guided her to a space far enough from any posted guards to give them a semblance of privacy. “We can watch the dancing.”

  She nodded gratefully. Kyra started to lean against the mirrored walls but stopped when she saw Tristam standing straight. He gave her a faint smile. “Lean against me. I’m plenty sturdy, and the servants don’t have to polish me at the end of the evening.”

  Kyra had to laugh at that, and she took his offered arm. They made quite a pair, the two of them in their finery, behaving in what must have been an incredibly unsociable way.

  “Are you all right?” Tristam asked after a while.

  Kyra nodded and found that she was indeed feeling better. “I’m used to Willem’s barbs by now.”

  “Willem shouldn’t have spoken like that, undermining our own people to Edlan officials. It’s not even a matter of decorum. As Head Councilman, what he did was unacceptable.”

  “I suppose he just really dislikes me.” Kyra tried to make her voice light, but Tristam just shook his head.

  “No. Willem is too much of a politician to let his own feuds leak through to his official duties. He had a reason for saying what he did.”

  “And what was that?”

  “I can’t know for sure,” said Tristam. “But Malikel’s been gaining favor in the Council. He’s been pushing an initiative against corruption in the Palace, and he’s been convincing the other Council members. Perhaps Willem is trying to push back.”

  Across the room, Willem was enjoying a brief moment of solitude, attended by the same unusually pretty serving girl who’d refilled his cup before. The girl smiled at Willem, tilting her head as she refilled his glass, though it was clear to anyone with eyes in his head that her true function involved more than simply pouring wine. She wore the usual undyed linen dress of Palace serving women, but she’d cut it to a tighter fit, and the collar was much lower than the usual modest cut. The girl had accentuated her already striking features with a hint of kohl and berry stain, and she had the kind of figure that made men stop in the streets. Willem didn’t even try to hide his glances at her cleavage as he leaned over to speak in her ear.

  “Doesn’t he care about word getting back to his wife?” Kyra snapped. She scanned the ballroom. Kyra didn’t know what Willem’s wife looked like, but she must have been present at such an important event.

  It took Tristam a moment to discern whom she was talking about. “From what I hear, his wife has her own line of companions. Theirs was an arranged marriage.”

  “Is that how it’s done with nobles? A marriage for politics’ sake and a plaything on the side?” Kyra didn’t bother to remove the distaste from her voice. Flick had come from such a union. His father had enjoyed his mistress’s company and then abandoned her when illness took her beauty.

  Tristam’s gaze went to her face and lingered there a moment before he carefully replied, “It’s commonly done but it’s…frowned upon. Many couples do try to make it work. My parents had a political marriage, but they now love and respect each other deeply.”

  Willem’s serving girl sidled up closer to him, and the Head Councilman put a possessive arm around her waist. Kyra turned away. “I can’t watch them carrying on like this. How can any serving girl stand to be that close to him? It turns my stomach.”

  Tristam looked at her in bemusement. “I’ve never seen you react this strongly to Willem, and he’s done some pretty despicable things.”

  Kyra didn’t want to think about why the sight of Willem with his mistress upset her so much. The answer was there. She just didn’t like it. “Why’s Malikel unmarried?” she asked. “All the other Council members have wives, don’t they?”

  “You know, I’ve never co
nsidered that. I suppose I always saw Malikel as a solitary entity.” Tristam tilted his head thoughtfully. “To be honest, I think it would be difficult for him to find a family open to an alliance with him.”

  “Because he’s Minadan? Even though he’s a Council member?”

  Tristam hesitated, then gave an uncomfortable nod. “Allowing a foreigner into the workings of one’s city is hard enough. Allowing him into one’s family…I can’t see it happening.”

  Kyra chewed on his words. She supposed she wasn’t all that surprised. Though Malikel had power and influence, he’d never completely lost the aura of an outsider. The children of Forge stared openly at Malikel when he toured the city, and Kyra remembered at least one serving girl new to the Palace who had been afraid to wait on the Defense Minister. In a sense, Malikel’s situation was the opposite of hers. He was a good man and dedicated to the city, yet people feared him because of his dark skin and foreign ways. Whereas people who saw Kyra tended to underestimate her, seeing only a young girl of low birth.

  “To be honest, Willem had a good point,” she said. “I still wonder why Malikel trusts me. I did try to kill him.”

  “You were ordered to assassinate him,” Tristam corrected. “And you didn’t carry out that order. Furthermore, you captured James and turned him over to the Palace. That, if anything, should prove you’re no longer loyal to him.”

  James. Kyra shivered as the assassin’s face appeared in her mind. He’d changed her life the day he’d walked into The Drunken Dog to hire her. “There was a time when I believed in his cause. He really did think he was fighting for justice.”

  The problem was, he’d taken the fight further than Kyra had been willing to go. Things had gone sour when Kyra refused to kill innocent bystanders. And though she’d once been his most promising recruit, he’d eventually counted her his enemy.