Read Online The Bone Palace by Amanda Downum - Free Book Online Page B

or the faint movement of his fingers against the arm of the chair. “What is it?” she asked. “You know something.”
    “It’s nothing,” he said after a pause. At least he had the grace to look rueful when he lied to her. She pushed the fleeting sting aside—there had always been things he couldn’t tell her. A hazard of their work. “Investigate as you see fit. If we can find those responsible and return what was stolen, perhaps Mathiros need never learn of this.” His frown deepened. Did it pain him to hide things from the king he’d served so long? Isyllt didn’t think he would have kept secrets three years ago. Three years ago he could have swayed the king from any foolish vengeance. But maybe there had always been secrets between Kiril and Mathiros too. “Perhaps Aphra and Tenebris know something.”
    She nearly smiled. Many in Erisín avoided even the word
vrykoloi
, for fear of attracting unwanted attention—Kiril named their elders as he might old friends.
    He turned back to her and the firelight picked out glints of garnet in his hair, lined the weary creases on his face. “You’re not going alone, are you?”
    “I’m taking Ciaran. He knows his way around the sewers.” The musician’s days of fencing and sneak-thievery might be over, but he hadn’t forgotten them any more than she’d forgotten hers. Elysia branded its children deep.
    Kiril’s eyebrows rose. “You and he are still close, then?”
    She chuckled. She’d had other relationships over the years, before and after Kiril, but of all her lovers in Erisín, she only spoke to him and Ciaran. “I’m not made of rosewood and strings—it will never be serious. I trust him at my back.”
But not like I trust you
. She washed the thought away with a swallow of wine.
    He nodded and raised his own cup. “That’s good. You need more people you can trust around you. Perhaps you should consider taking an apprentice of your own.”
    Her smile felt brittle. “I don’t need to worry about that yet, do I?” Was his health the secret he was keeping? He had never truly recovered from the attack he suffered after the queen’s death, but she hadn’t imagined things had worsened so much.
    He stared into the ruby-black depths of his glass and the spiderweb lines around his eyes deepened. Isyllt wanted to soothe them away, along with the bruised shadows on his eyelids and the weariness that showed in every line of his lean frame. But all her magic was useless for that. No healing for either of them, only death.
    Kiril looked up and smiled, and lied again. “You’re right. Let’s solve this mystery first. We have plenty of time to worry about other things.”
    She smiled back, and tried to make herself believe it.
    As the sun sank behind its vault of clouds, Isyllt sat on the foot of Ciaran’s narrow bed and waited for him to finish fussing with his clothes. The little room—practically compact was the kindest description—smelled of baking and spices from the kitchens below and all the familiar scents that clung in his clothes and hair: orange-and-clove wood polish, pine oil, and the rich musk of his skin. Charmshung in the windows, cords of dried leaves and shining beads; she didn’t recognize the foreign magics, and Ciaran never told the same story twice when she asked.
    He wore dark colors tonight, snug lines that wouldn’t trip him up in narrow places, none of his usual flamboyance. Isyllt was dressed much the same—plain leather trousers and a short jacket—but chains of opals and amethysts clattered faintly when she moved, a wealth of gems wrapped around her throat. A peace gift for the vrykoloi, who valued beauty and things of the earth.
    Ciaran gave his boots a final stamp and pulled on his coat, double-checking all the weapons secreted about him. Isyllt stood, rolling her shoulders to settle the bone-and-silver kukri knife sheathed down her back, and tugged on her other glove.
    “Will the Crown reimburse me for my time?”