The Shattered City (19 page)

Livilla shrugged. ‘Apparently all is forgiven where Priest is concerned. Fine and peachy. But the thing that killed my boys is still inside that sweetling. I wanted answers.' She stared defiantly at them both. ‘I didn't hurt her. Not even a little.'

‘I expect you want a medal.' Kelpie flipped a wicked-looking knife out of her belt and slid it into the lock as if it was butter. The door clicked open, and Kelpie went in. Delphine followed at a more cautious pace. Livilla trailed after them both, her eyes glittering.

The Duchessa lay sprawled out on a bedspread made from silk finer than Delphine had ever seen before. Would Velody be prepared to make frocks from stolen sheets? It was a tempting thought. ‘She's still wearing the dress,' Delphine said aloud.

The flame festival dress from the day of sacrifice was crumpled, but as vivid as ever. The same could not be said for the Duchessa, who was horrifically pale. She looked drugged to Delphine, who had more than her share of experience with potions.

‘Ashiol thinks that the dress is what has made her run mad,' said Kelpie. ‘Like Priest's waistcoat.'

‘Easy, then,' purred Livilla. ‘Let's take it off her.'

‘Worth a try,' agreed Delphine. ‘It fastens at the back,' she added, having watched Velody work on the dress for long enough. ‘We'll need to roll her over.'

The Duchessa's skin was clammy and cool, but rolling her on one side did not make her stir. It was definitely more than sleep keeping her down in that particular
chasm. Delphine felt for the soft buttons, remembering how Velody had tucked them behind ruches of fabric to hide them and allow the dress to fall smoothly from the shoulder blades. Her fingers slid over the first button and she tugged it open, then the next. The Duchessa cried out.

‘What did you do, stick her with a pin?' Kelpie asked.

Delphine tried to peel back the fabric. ‘It's attached to her skin. It's actually — fixed there.'

‘It can't be.' Kelpie leaned over and took hold of a handful of gown, yanking on it sharply.

The Duchessa punched her in the face.

It wasn't much of a punch, but it shocked the hells out of Kelpie, who fell back on the cornflower-coloured carpet, one hand cradling her nose.

Livilla laughed like a sucking drain. ‘Oh, I've changed my mind. She's not a silly aristocratic waste of space. She has style.'

The Duchessa turned and looked at her, eyes so dark they were nearly black. Livilla stopped laughing.

Delphine was close enough to see the spidery lines of a web tattooed across the Duchessa's milky skin. The lines were actually moving, creeping from her back over her shoulders and wending their way up her neck. ‘I don't think she wants us to remove the dress,' she said hesitantly.

The Duchessa turned to her. ‘We are the dust,' she said, the words torn from her throat as if they did not belong. ‘You cannot stop us. Not Kings, nor Lords and Court, nor …' And she smiled, a thoroughly nasty smile. ‘Sentinels. Not even you.'

Delphine's throat went dry. ‘I'm not a sentinel,' she said, just to make things absolutely clear.

‘I am,' grated Kelpie. She had one of her knives out and was holding it steadily, the tip only inches from the side of the Duchessa's neck. ‘This is skysilver. The Duchessa is mortal, and this will glide through her, not making a mark. But you — I'm pretty sure it will do some damage to whatever the hells you are. I'm good with it, in case you were wondering. I've been accused of artistry in my time.'

The thing inside the Duchessa laughed. ‘You thought your skies were treacherous before, Creature Court. You were wrong. We are coming to break your city into pieces. The dust will fall.'

 

When a snotty steward called Armand attempted to show a party of City Fathers in to see the Duchessa, it fell to Delphine to look respectable and make the fast explanations. After all, Kelpie was in her leathers, and Livilla was … well, Livilla.

‘The Comte de Leondres, Baronne Mauricel Nantes and Seigneur Giovannius have an
appointment
,' the steward said in a scandalised tone.

‘The Duchessa is indisposed,' Delphine replied in her haughtiest manner. She had whipped on a shawl to make her dress a little more Palazzo-respectable.

‘I am not sure who you are, demoiselle, but I should like to hear from the Duchessa herself if I am to make further changes to her schedule!' Armand looked harried.

‘I am Mistress Delphine Vittorine, personal secretary to the Duchessa,' she told him firmly. She had never questioned where her aristocratic accent and general sense of entitlement came from, but it helped her talk her way out of all sorts of scrapes. ‘You
will
not
disturb my mistress while she is in her delicate condition.'

Oops, possibly ‘delicate condition' was the wrong phrase to use. The last thing they needed were rumours of a Ducal pregnancy. Still, it sparked up a gossipy gleam in Armand's eye before he returned to his default state of ‘huffy and offended'. ‘The Duchessa does not have a personal secretary,' he said, at least having the discretion to speak quietly so that the ministers could not hear their discussion.

‘She does now,' Delphine shot back, arching her neck and looking down her nose at him. Ha, he thought he could beat her at this game? ‘She hired me this morning, in the presence of the Ducomte Xandelian. He will vouch for me. As will Lady Camellie and her daughters,' she added, using one of Velody's recent clients and her own knowledge of Great Families gossip to best effect.

‘Interesting how the Duchessa became indisposed so soon after your appointment,' hissed Armand. ‘How convenient for you, Mistress Vittorine.'

Delphine sighed. This idiot wouldn't let himself be fooled easily. She was going to have to go to greater effort. ‘What exactly is it that you think I might be trying to hide here, Seigneur Armand? What is the greatest fear of the Palazzo servants since the Duchessa made her announcement about cancelling the Sacred Games?'

The reign of the mad Duc had ended only a little over a year ago. It was unlikely any of the servants and ministers had forgotten in a hurry what it had been like.

Armand's eyes widened painfully. ‘Our lady is not …' His voice broke on the words. Interesting. He genuinely
cared about the Duchessa. That should come in handy. ‘Is not seriously unwell?' he added in a rush of a whisper.

‘No,' Delphine said gently. ‘Her dottore does not believe this current malaise is anything more than exhaustion, caused by her devotion to her new duties over the last few months. But you understand the need for discretion. Rumours that this is more than a brief illness could be greatly damaging to our lady's reputation among the City Fathers.'

Armand was buying it, nodding repeatedly. ‘The Ducomte knows of this? And Lady Eglantine?'

Oh, hells. One sniff of the Duchessa's mother, and the game was up. ‘The Duchessa is desperate to conceal her exhaustion from Lady Eglantine,' Delphine said hastily. ‘She is worried that … her mother will use this as an excuse to usurp some of her duties or …'
Think, Delphine, think
. What were the most common rumours about the Duchessa and her mother? ‘Or that she will push a marriage upon her sooner than she wishes. If we can just buy her a few days, she will be grateful to everyone who aids her in this endeavour.'

If they needed more than a few days then … well, Ashiol bloody Xandelian could come and personally kiss the arses of the servants. Delphine would provide the lip balm.

Almost all the lines of suspicion had been erased from Armand's face. Delphine used her blue eyes and pretty face as shamelessly as she dared, along with a deep confiding tone. ‘Only the Duchessa's most trusted servants are to know the truth, Armand. I need you to assure me that this will go no further — although perhaps you can let me know who else we will need to bring into our confidence.'

Oh, and he was sold. Really, Delphine should twist men around her finger for a living. She was bloody spectacular at it.

‘If I can help the Duchessa in any way, I shall,' Armand promised eagerly.

Thank frig for that. ‘Please, convey our lady's apologies to the ministers and arrange a later appointment.'

Armand nodded. ‘After the Ides?'

‘The very thing,' said Delphine, as if she cared what actual date they picked. ‘The Duchessa shall most certainly be returned to her usual self by then.' If Kelpie hadn't knifed her or anything.

Armand swept away, making far better excuses to the City Fathers than Delphine could ever have come up with. She returned to the others exhausted, as if she had been dancing all nox.

The Duchessa sat with her back against the pillows on the bed, her body stiff and her eyes glowing black. Kelpie perched near her, the gleam of her skysilver knife reflecting patterns against the silken wall hangings, and her nose bruising up nicely.

‘So,' said Delphine. ‘What do we do now?'

‘I'm thinking of slicing that dress off her,' Kelpie muttered. ‘Piece by piece.'

The Duchessa preened, stretching her neck. The black web pattern reached almost to her chin. ‘Do you really think the dress still has an influence over me? I am becoming.'

‘Becoming what?' Kelpie asked.

‘True,' the Duchessa said sweetly. ‘Real.
Here
.'

‘We could just kill her,' Livilla said. ‘Listening to anything from the sky is dangerous. That's the first thing we are taught as courtesi. Never let your guard down,
never take your eyes off them, do whatever damage you can. Killing her makes the most sense.'

Kelpie looked impatient. ‘Yes, I can just see you explaining that to Ashiol.'

‘Ashiol hasn't done me any favours lately. None of you have.' Livilla lifted one slender shoulder, looking just as weary as Delphine felt. ‘My boys died, and no one cares but me. I want revenge.'

The Duchessa laughed, a low and deliberate sound.

‘Shut your face,' Livilla hissed. ‘They were
mine
. You had no right.'

‘It's not like she did it,' Delphine said, losing sympathy for Livilla as quickly as she had acquired it.

‘Don't be an idiot,' said Livilla. ‘If the thing inside her is the same thing inside Priest, then that's exactly what murdered my boys.' She leaned in, staring at the Duchessa. ‘Noxcrawl doesn't have a voice. It doesn't have needs or wants, and it sure as frig doesn't have a sense of humour. You are not noxcrawl. You're something else, something from the sky.'

The Duchessa smiled cruelly. ‘Nothing but dust.'

‘Shut up. If you can't say anything useful, hold your tongue.'

‘We could cut it out,' Kelpie said, as if seriously considering that option.

Livilla smiled. ‘Her tongue? Good
plan
.'

Delphine was really not used to being the most sensible person in the room.

 

It was dark by the time Ashiol returned to the Eyrie to find it empty, and a message scrawled on the door in Livilla's bright cosmetick. TOOK THE LADY HOME. That was all he fucking needed.

He made his way back to the Palazzo. Apparently he was never going to get away from this place. Armand, that limp lettuce leaf of a factotum, gave Ashiol an oddly deferential nod of the head as he approached the Duchessa's rooms. There was a story there, but damned if he cared what it was.

He could still feel the sensation of being wingless, and it made him stop several times to check he still had arms. That, and he was constantly distracted by thoughts of Velody, her swollen mouth and big grey eyes, and the heat of her skin under his hands.

There were several reasons why he had needed a drink or two before he got to the Palazzo. Luckily all the bars in the area had a tab running for him. He kept forgetting to carry money.

In Isangell's rooms, Ashiol was greeted by the sight of Livilla and Delphine tangled on the couch like kittens, both fast asleep. Strange bedfellows, indeed. Kelpie was alert and sitting on the edge of Isangell's bed. She gave him a look that wasn't entirely friendly. ‘Come to clear up this mess?'

‘Got here as fast as I could,' he said glibly. Kelpie was a mess. Her hair was all over the place, and she was badly bruised across the face. ‘You didn't have to come here.'

‘Shut up, Ash. You don't know anything.' She looked him over. ‘You're all right now?'

He nodded impatiently, his attention on Isangell. She was sweating, her skin shiny and damp as she muttered in her sleep. The noxcrawl web had made its way over half her face. Someone had bound her to the bed. Kelpie, probably, though he recalled that Livilla was good with knots.

‘Do you know how to fix this?' Kelpie blurted. ‘We can't keep standing watch over her. They're going to find out.'

‘Yes,' he said heavily. ‘I know how.'

A few drops of Kelpie's blood would drive the noxcrawl from Isangell; turn her back into the mortal she was supposed to be. But the thought of it revolted him. Priest belonged to the Creature Court, at least. This was part of the life he had signed up for. But Isangell … Ashiol had never wanted his world to touch her. Had never wanted his rosy daylight cousin to be tainted by the nox. Look at her now.

Not only her. They had all been ravaged by the sky one way or another, and in broad daylight. Hel — what the saints had happened to Hel? No one had seen her since she ran away from Velody's house. Ashiol had half forgotten about her while everything was such a mess, but looking down at Isangell's vulnerable body, it was Hel he was thinking about. She was so certain she was going to die. The last Seer had taken his own life. Might Heliora go that far?

The sky had never had a voice before. It had never sent warnings. It had never crept into their daylight lives on such a large scale. The Creature Court were hurt and wounded, and none of them could trust each other any more.