The man grinned and clapped Kihrin on the shoulder. “My father told me you’re a D’Mon and I admit, I didn’t believe it could be true … but to see you here!” He lowered his voice and said, “My condolences on your father. Surdyeh’s death was a tragedy.”
Kihrin nearly lost control of himself right then. It was the first time anyone had given condolences on Surdyeh’s death without some manner of caveat—how he must have deserved it, how Surdyeh had been a criminal. It was the only time when Kihrin knew the person understood. Jarith had met the man. Jarith had seen the worry on his father’s face, Kihrin’s concern in turn on the streets in the aftermath of that demon attack. His throat tightened and he felt the threat of tears hovering at the corners of his eyes. Kihrin shook his head and managed to stammer out, “Thank you.”
“Come then, I have to parade around and make a good impression, and I will not be so gauche as to drag you with me. Later, some friends of mine are going to gather in a room upstairs and have a card game. Look for the door with a vase of peacock feathers outside. You’re welcome to join.”
The young man ducked his head. “Thank you. That’s kind of you.”
Jarith laughed and clasped his hand to Kihrin’s before he let the younger man go. “Kind? I’m just looking for anyone who’s not depraved beyond reason. We outsiders need to stick together. There’s safety in numbers, you know.” He gave Kihrin a friendly wink before he, too, headed into the crowd to continue mingling.
Kihrin looked around. He couldn’t see the violet-eyed brunette anymore, but probably for the best. The last thing he wanted to do was start an incident.
Most of the guests were past their majority by a decade or more. He spotted a group of teenage boys over in one corner, but he knew a closed gang when he saw one. They’d let him know how they felt about him on their own terms, assuming they didn’t just dismiss him out of hand for his scandalous upbringing.
Key training kicked in. Everyone was here in the great room, near the food, wine, and entertainment. A few were leaving for private assignations and meetings in upper rooms. Yet there were exits from the room that didn’t seem to lead to the kitchens or the servants’ areas.
Kihrin made sure no one was paying attention, most of all Darzin, and quietly headed into the back rooms of the Dark Hall.
* * *
Kihrin didn’t know why he was surprised to discover House D’Lorus owned a magnificent library. The room hadn’t been locked and the passage of feet and the wear on the carved mahogany doors suggested regular, steady use. Once inside, Kihrin had taken a few minutes to admire a room nearly as large as the great dining hall at the Blue Palace—but given over entirely to books, scrolls, tablets, and maps.
The room itself was three stories tall, but open in the center, so the higher stories were reached by catwalks and ladders. Every inch of wall space and every section of shelf was lined with books. Kihrin wasn’t in love with books—he’d grown to loathe the giant medical textbook Lady Miya was forcing him to memorize—but the quantity of volumes present couldn’t help but elicit admiration. Some books sat under glass, and some lay on special pedestals, and some were chained to desks to prevent their removal. There were maps too, on tables and under great gilt frames hanging from walls.
A painting rested on one of the lone walls not covered in bookcases, a painting of an elegant woman with long shining hair and hot black eyes. She wasn’t as pretty as many of the women he’d seen in his short stay in the Upper City, but she was handsome and defiant. The subtle slant of a hand on her hip, the tilt of her chin, managed to convey that she was a woman who would never do as she was told. Kihrin liked her immediately.
“My mother, Raverí,” Thurvishar D’Lorus said. “She was sentenced to Continuance for her role in the Affair of the Voices.”
Kihrin only jumped a foot off the ground, and didn’t yelp, although it was a close thing. He turned around and tried to pretend he’d known the Lord Heir was there the whole time. “Sentenced to Continuance? What does that mean?” He hadn’t heard Thurvishar approach, hadn’t had the least inkling that he wasn’t alone in the room. He found himself disconcerted.*
“Oh, you wouldn’t have run across it in the Lower Circle, would you? When a female member of royalty, who is expected to provide an heir, is condemned of capital crimes—she’s kept in prison until the baby is delivered, and then executed. That way the House continues.”?
Kihrin felt a shudder. “That’s, uh.…”
“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘vile,’” Thurvishar said. “Anyway, I’m surprised to find you here. Most people would rather be looking for the wine cellar.”
Kihrin paused. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might be trespassing. He took a step toward the door. “Oh, uh. I didn’t realize it was off-limits. I was—” He waved a finger in a circle. “I didn’t touch anything.”
“Interested in books?” Thurvishar asked. His voice was a purr Kihrin couldn’t help but find menacing.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” Kihrin crossed his arms over his chest as he continued maneuvering toward the exit. “I can read.”
“Much to your new family’s surprise, I’m sure,” Thurvishar agreed. “Were you looking for anything?”
“No. I didn’t mean to intrude. I should get back to the party.” As Kihrin reached for the door handle, it opened on its own.
Morea stepped into the room.
Kihrin felt a moment’s dizziness. He knew it wasn’t, couldn’t, be Morea. This was Talea, the twin sister Thurvishar had purchased. Still, the resemblance was palpable, a dagger pressed against Kihrin’s throat. A dagger pressed against his heart when she flinched from him, pulling away with a widening of eyes and a look bordering on panic.
Thurvishar held out his hand to her. “It’s all right, Talea. I’m here.”
The young woman edged past Kihrin like a feral cat avoiding a hound and rushed to Thurvishar D’Lorus’s side. Thurvishar put an arm around her waist and pulled the young woman to him, stopping to kiss the top of her head. “Please forgive my slave. Her last owner treated her poorly, and she’s still recovering.”
Kihrin swallowed. “Of course.”
Talea looked up at Thurvishar. “My lord, you asked—” She glanced at Kihrin then, quick and uncertain, as if she didn’t know if she should speak while he was in the room.
“It’s all right, my dear,” Thurvishar reassured her.
“You said I should come fetch you before the card game began,” she reminded him.
“Ah, yes! So I did.” Thurvishar snapped his fingers and smiled before turning to Kihrin. “I would never neglect the passions of a fellow bibliophile. Stay and read if such is your fancy. Alas, my presence is required elsewhere.”
Kihrin bit his lip. “Is this Jarith Milligreest’s card game?”
Thurvishar paused, his eyebrows drawn together. He gave a single nod.
“I was invited to that,” Kihrin admitted. “The door with the peacock feather vase, right?”
“Indeed,” Thurvishar said. “Follow me then. I’ll show you the way.”
65: HANGOVER CURES
(Kihrin’s story)