Grumbling, Sveta took the exquisite, purple-jeweled pin from her hair and tossed it at the other girl.
Zoya gathered up one side of my hair and pushed the pin through it. I winced when the sharp point jabbed at my scalp. “There you go. She looks rather like an impoverished asha with only two zivars to her name”—she poked at my crescent pin with disdain—“but with this she can pass as one of us, if barely! We’re giving you a promotion, little Tea. Imagine—from lowly maid to full-fledged asha in the space of an hour!”
The others found this especially funny.
“What do you want?” Now that I was sure they had no real intentions of harming me, I was growing angrier by the second despite the strange buzzing in my head. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Consider this a small life lesson. Your Lady Shadi took the role I wanted in the darashi oyun, and I’ve been meaning to find some way to return the favor.” She smiled at me. “I didn’t ask you to come here, little girl. But you played the truant, so you’re in trouble anyway, regardless of what you do. You’d best play along to make things easier on your house. You’re wearing Lady Shadi’s hua, and you have her setar. I’m sure you know what that means.”
I froze. She was right. I may not be an asha yet, but Lady Shadi and I were members of House Valerian. Everything I did in her clothes would be done in her name, on Mistress Parmina and Lady Mykaela’s names, and on the Valerian’s name, and it did not matter one whit that I had been forced into it.
“I have to go,” I burst out, struggling, but more hands held me in place. My headache refused to go away, and I wasn’t even sure I could stand on my own even if I had wanted to.
“And how can I let you leave,” the pretty asha said, “after you’ve stolen my good friend Shadi’s hua and her favorite instrument? I ought to alert the mistress of the Falling Leaf and have you thrown out in full view of all the other paying guests.”
I knew what she was telling me. If I tried to leave, she would make sure that the Valerian’s reputation would suffer. And while I didn’t care about how Mistress Parmina would react, the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint Lady Mykaela.
“That’s better.” Zoya grinned when I relaxed. “Don’t worry. Keep a smile on your face and do everything I instruct you to, and you’ll be free to leave once the party is over.”
The party? But the other girls were already forcing me to my feet, and I was still too dazed to put up much of a struggle.
They led me across the garden to another room, where the murmur of voices within told me that guests were already in attendance. Grinning, the braided asha named Brijette drew the door open.
And I found myself staring into the eyes of Prince Kance.
“Have you ever been in love?” the asha asked.
She was up before dawn. I found her by the grave again, looking up at the jaws of yet another skeletal horror. Salt water and sand swooped into the open, gaping mouth, egged on by the rising tides, to bleach its lower mandible a brittle white. Her fingers weaved through the air beside the beast, sampling at the breeze. She carried a small vial in her other hand, filled with the nauseating potion she had boiled the day before.
I did not expect the question. I stammered, “Well, there was this girl I’ve known all my life. We grew up together—our parents hoped we would marry when we came of age—”
“And did your banishment from Drycht put an end to that engagement?”
“There was no engagement to speak of. She valued my friendship, but that was all. She—she liked someone else.”
“Did her parents approve of that match?”
“No. She was in love with a young bricklayer her father hired. But I’m not important. I want to know more about you and the prince.”
“My relationship with the prince had always been very complicated.” She smiled, amused, and looked up at the bones. “They say monsters like these were common during the First Days, before the Five Great Heroes slew the daeva. But as imposing as they are, it is futile to raise them from the dead; they have no limbs to walk out of water onto shallow shores. Daeva are a different story.” She tapped at her heartsglass. “You stare at this when you think I do not see. Speak your mind.”
“Our heartsglass, Mistress Tea. Heartforgers bear silver hearts. So do asha and Deathseekers. The lesser of them have purple, while the common folk have red. I have never seen black heartsglass before.”
“It is because few do what I have done. Not since the False Prince. Not since his followers. Black heartsglass is a punishment meted out to those who commit certain atrocities that asha find repugnant. No one with a black heartsglass should be able to sense the Runes, much less wield them. It is why they gave me exile instead of death.” She smiled grimly. “They were wrong, of course. I have found black heartsglass to be useful in ways they never could have imagined.”
She held out her hand to show me a bezoar that glittered gold in the light. “This is the bezoar extracted from the taurvi. It rampaged through the old world for thirteen days and thirteen nights before the great hero Mithra slew it. It rises from its grave every ten years since. This glows bright in the presence of all poisons—essential for kings and noblemen wary of those who prepare their food and drink. I harvested it three weeks ago.”
“But, Mistress Tea, if your Lady Mykaela harvested the bezoar when you were only twelve, and if it rises every ten years—”
“Then it would not have been potent for many more years, yes. But I could not wait that long.”
I waited for her to explain further. Instead, she changed the subject.
“You wanted to ask me about my loves and my romances? Prince Kance started out as a simple infatuation. Back then, I had no inkling how much of my life he would change. But when you are younger and know no better, an infatuation can lead all the world to burn.” She lifted the vial to her lips and, without pause, drank down the potion.
9
He had grown a few more inches since I’d last seen him, and his hair was longer now, curled at the nape of his neck. But his eyes were still the same bright emeralds, and his face still maintained that solemn bearing even as he stood, smiling, to greet us. His heartsglass was just as I remembered, its encasing engraved with his royal seal and still that pristine, flawless rose red.
He was not alone. Another boy lounged at the end of the table, and three girls sat around him, settled among the cushions. One of them had a hand on Prince Kance’s arm, which she relinquished with some reluctance when he stood. She was tall and willowy, fair where the other two girls were dark. She wore a lovely chiffon gown that highlighted her heartsglass, which looked to be made from inlaid gold and pink alexandrite. Her eyes were a vivid blue, though the look she sent our way was as hard as diamonds.