“Before you could defeat them,” Lord Ineo said flatly.
“They also overcame your guards,” said Runajo. “The ones watching the prisoners went down without a fight. I thought they were supposed to protect us.”
“Oh, those guards will also be disciplined,” said Lord Ineo. “I just want to know why our Juliet did not give her all to defend her people against a bloody, unprovoked attack. It makes no sense. Unless, of course, she is still confused in her loyalties.”
Dread clutched at Juliet’s throat. She could already imagine the next words: Perhaps she needs a chance to prove herself, followed by an order to kill Catresou prisoners in retribution for the attack. Runajo would relay the order, and the magic would strangle Juliet’s will and send her walking out into the morning sunlight, out to the building where they kept the Catresou prisoners, and she would have to kill, and kill, and kill—
“Juliet,” said Runajo, each word chilled and precise, “kiss his feet.”
The order had seized her by the base of the skull and pressed her forward before she even knew what was happening. Then her lips were against his toes and she wanted to pull back in revulsion, but she couldn’t. She could only let the magic move her to kiss his other foot before it allowed her to sit back, shaking with humiliation.
He had flinched. That was something.
“If you don’t think she’s entirely broken to our will,” Runajo said impatiently, “you’re a fool. And I know you’re not a fool. You’re very displeased that this happened, and you want us to be sorry. I assure you, we are. May we now discuss something important, such as how we’re going to recover the living dead girl?”
There was a short, brittle silence. Then Lord Ineo laughed softly.
“I see I have no choice but to respect you,” he said, and there was actually warmth in his voice. It turned Juliet’s stomach, though she shouldn’t be surprised. Of course he liked Runajo. She was ruthless enough. “Did they say anything, when they took her? Do they know what she is?”
Before Runajo could reply—before she could say that they had only been one boy, who had not been alive either—Juliet spoke up.
“When I got there, they were dragging her out. They were telling the girl that they were going to give her a proper burial, as one of their people deserved.”
The worlds felt oily and unclean in her mouth. Juliet had never been a liar before.
But she’d never had such need before.
“Really?” said Lord Ineo. “Is that true?”
And for one agonized heartbeat, she could only wait and hope—
“Juliet,” said Runajo, “tell him.”
But she hadn’t said to tell him what.
Juliet raised her head and looked Lord Ineo straight in the eyes. “I am telling you the truth, my lord. They were furious that we hadn’t given her Catresou burial rites.”
“They were shouting something like that when they attacked me,” said Runajo.
Lord Ineo sighed. “Superstitious fools.”
He didn’t seem very worried at the thought. She’d given him the answer he wanted: that he had already nobly vanquished all necromancers in the city.
“But when are we going to get the girl back?” asked Runajo.
“When we round up the rest of the Catresou.” He paused meaningfully. “It’s not a thing to be discussed before your charge.”
“Juliet,” said Runajo, without looking at her, “go.”
Her body rose and walked from the room smoothly and without hesitation. But the moment the door closed behind her, the order obeyed, she stopped. She thought she could still hear them if she strained—
Then Runajo spoke silently into her mind: Do not find a way to spy on us.
Again the order drove her feet into motion, carrying her down the hallway. When her feet were finally released, Juliet stumbled, then turned and slammed her palm into the wall.
For a few moments, as they talked to Lord Ineo, she had started to think that Runajo was her ally again.
But it seemed she was still determined to make sure that Juliet could do nothing to prevent the destruction of her people.
Because they would be destroyed over this, Juliet was very sure. Lord Ineo would not forgive nor forget the raid. He would hunt them down, and Juliet would be the one who killed them.
It was her duty. She was the sword of the Mahyanai.
She had decided to accept that.
So Juliet curled her hands into useless fists at her sides and went to do her duty by sitting vigil over the Mahyanai dead.
The Mahyanai did not keep vigil the same way, now. Lord Ineo was too careful for that. All five bodies were laid out together in a single large room, watched by three guards with polearms; they were to be taken away at noon, less than twelve hours after they had died.
Even so, not many were willing to sit vigil. Everyone knew how dangerous the dead had become.
So Juliet was surprised to find Arajo there. She was even more surprised to see her kneeling beside the old serving woman who had died first.
Without a word, Juliet knelt beside her.
“What are you doing here?” asked Arajo after a moment, her voice small and tightly controlled.
“You’re my people now,” said Juliet. “This is what you do for your dead, isn’t it?”
Arajo drew a shuddering breath.
“Why are you here?” asked Juliet.
“She was my nurse.” Arajo’s voice wavered. “I loved her more than my own mother.”
Juliet looked at the old woman’s still, horribly pale face. If somebody had told her, the day before, that Catresou men would break into Lord Ineo’s estate and kill a helpless old woman, she wouldn’t have believed it. The Catresou weren’t like other people in the city, who sent their women to join the City Guard; they understood that women were meant to be protected.
But they were desperate now. And angry.
“They said you killed them. The men who killed her.”
“Yes,” said Juliet. She remembered her sword slicing faster than her own thoughts, cutting them down in moments. And she remembered comforting one of the men as he lay dying, holding his hand and whispering the prayers to send him safely into death. “Yes. I avenged her.”
“Good. I’m glad.” Arajo’s hands, resting on her knees, curled into fists. “Monsters like that deserve to die.”
She was right. It was monstrous to cut down an unarmed woman, no matter how desperate you were.
It was monstrous to order an entire clan destroyed, just because the leaders had been practicing necromancy in secret, against the laws of the clan itself.
It was monstrous to live in a city whose walls were maintained by human sacrifice.
Once, in the Cloister, Juliet had told Runajo, You live in a charnel house, and you’re all guilty and dripping red. She had only meant the Sisters of Thorn, because they poured out human blood in sacrifice. But it was true for everyone in Viyara, wasn’t it?
She stared at the old woman, who had deserved and not deserved to die, and she wished that Romeo were alive. Because he would know the answer. He had known there was a way for Juliet to be more than a sword. Surely he would know of a way for Viyara to be more than a city of monsters.
Juliet only knew how to see guilt and render judgment.
She remembered, suddenly, the Catresou boy she had fought the night before. He had so terribly reminded her of Romeo. Not just the smile she had glimpsed in the darkness, or the impulsive way he had charged to attack. But when they had dueled on the rooftops, it had been like the sword dance where she first met Romeo: the way they had slipped into an easy, perfect rhythm without even trying, as if the whole world had come into being so that they could dance together.
For one moment, she dared to think, I am here among the Mahyanai. Could he—
But Juliet had seen Romeo die. When the magic they had tried to harness went out of control, it had dragged them both into the land of the dead. Runajo, sitting vigil at the Mouth of Death, had dragged Juliet back before she had been entirely lost. But there had been no one to draw back Romeo. He had truly died.