Chapter Twenty-Two My Lady’s Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

My Lady's Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun

The wall struck her back like a blow. The Emperor closed his hand around her throat. Emer stared into his hateful face. They had always been enemies. At first she despised him. Fear came later.

"Do you know," the Emperor asked smilingly, "how often I think about killing you?"

The Iron Maid clutched the axe beneath her apron, and prepared to sell her life dearly.

Instead the Emperor's eyelids hooded the burning madness of his gaze. "I will not kill you, because she would not have wanted it."

Emer realized she was disappointed. "Lia is gone. What she wanted doesn't matter. Nothing matters now."

Time of Iron , ANONYMOUS

T he door swung open. Emer's lady sprang forward. Emer discreetly searched the top of the dresser for an object that might serve as a weapon.

Life as a servant at court was difficult, but a fight was simple. Wielding an axe when the dead attacked the Court of Air and Grace, she'd protected herself. She'd protected Lia.

She couldn't use an axe to protect herself from girls laughing at her face, or men making advances. Well, she could , but she would be executed. It wasn't worthwhile. If she and Rahela got dragged to prison, though, Emer might stab a guard and make a break for it. There were places to hide in the mountains. She could serve as one of the Oracle's guardians, or become a brigand.

The Golden Cobra stalked in. Emer was shocked by how sensibly he was dressed.

"I thought you were Key," said Rahela.

"Happy to say I'm not," drawled the Cobra. "That boy's not right."

Behind Rahela's back, Emer nodded. It was true Lord Popenjoy knew everything.

Rahela clutched the lapels of a red satin bed robe she'd drawn over the tatters of her ruby-and-cobra dress. "Key's in the Room of Dread and Anticipation, to be whipped fifteen times for saving Lia. Emer knew where Lia kept liniments and bandages to visit the misfortunate, so we stole them. Do you know where we can get a doctor?"

"Fifteen times!" repeated the Cobra.

His eyes found Emer's, the glance between them heavy with unspoken awareness.

Five lashes, even ten, with an enchanted whip might be survived intact. Not fifteen. If he lived, Key would be a ruined mass of flesh unable to walk or care for himself, let alone fight again. Her mistress kept chattering about Key's recovery, cheerfully ignoring the fact Key was likely dead.

Emer supposed Rahela didn't want to face it. She'd let it happen. If she'd actually cared, she would have spoken for him. But what was a servant's life, compared to a noble's entertainment? Emer's lady wouldn't risk being banished from the pleasures of the court. She hadn't spoken.

Popenjoy asked, "Curious about our access to the Flower of Life and Death?"

Rahela stopped clutching her lapels, and grasped the Cobra's arm. "Did you get the key?"

"I got it, I was forced into a moonlit chase across the rooftops, then Marius threw the key in the goddamn river!"

Emer's lady went through a series of extraordinary demonstrative gestures as the Cobra talked, her hands clasping in delight, clenching in anticipation, then wringing in horror.

Astonishing, how much more this key was worth than the other. Whatever mischief Rahela was scheming, the plot was hardly a matter of life or death.

Emer's lady retreated to the window in the antechamber, hand over her mouth. She stared out the ruby-tinted glass into the abyss. The Cobra studied her with concern.

He offered a joke Emer didn't understand. "Minor characters shouldn't have to deal with this garbage. Marius was supposed to have a romantic balcony scene!"

His lordship was talking nonsense, but effective nonsense. He persuaded Rahela to smile. "Wow. Almost like his romance isn't meant to be."

"I don't have to listen to this."

Nor did Emer. She didn't wish to hear speculation on which man was worthy of Lady Lia's hand. It didn't seem to occur to anyone the choice should be Lia's.

As if anybody in the palace could make their own choices.

Emer coughed pointedly. "M'lord, m'lady. Begging your pardon. When will the Last Hope send troops to arrest and execute us?"

The Cobra spun Rahela's stool to him with a foot, sitting with a dramatic sigh. He wasn't wearing his huge golden sleeves to flap like a bright excitable bat, but it appeared sleeves were a state of mind.

"You're getting sharp with us. Please remember: sharp words are okay! Sharp axes, not so much. Stay calm, Emer. Though I understand panic, because our plot has collapsed. Our plot needs bed rest and sea air. Marius didn't arrest me because he believes you and I are conspiring together, Rae. He's sworn to discover our wicked plot. I imagine he'll take his suspicions, with the key, to the king."

A knock on the outer door made everyone jump as if it were a crossbow bolt.

"So the Last Hope thinks we're conspiring together, and now someone's going to find us… conspiring together…" murmured Rahela.

"I could jump out the window," whispered the Cobra.

"Go ahead, my lord," Emer invited.

"The window looks out onto the dread ravine!" said Rahela.

The Cobra shot an amused glance Emer's way. He was a good-tempered man, she'd give him that. Pity he was a shameless libertine.

"Send whoever is at the door away, my lady!" Emer urged.

Since nobody had opened the door, it wasn't the king or high-ranking nobles. Rahela could send them off and stay safe.

Rahela twitched at the lapel of her robe. "It must be guards bringing Key back."

Now she pretended to care. Emer lost patience. "Your reputation is already in shreds. Do you want to set the shreds on fire for a ruffian from the gutter?"

"Let's not punish people for where they were born." The Cobra paused. "Let's punish them for being deranged murderers."

Rahela crossed her arms. "Key didn't do anything wrong!"

The Cobra said, "I don't find that believable."

"He didn't do anything wrong this time! Key was protecting Lia. And me. I'm his mentor. I'm responsible for him."

At the word ‘mentor' the Cobra flicked a deeply dubious sideways glance at Rahela.

Emer's lady drew herself up in a tower of ivory and scarlet and chaos, and called: "Enter!"

Two guards in royal livery entered, dragging Key. His black head hung down, shoulder blades hunched like a tortured vulture's. His feet trailed, body limp. A path of blood smeared on the white marble behind him.

He was alive.

Even more shocking, he was conscious. He mumbled something.

A guard laughed. All the guards had been annoyed when a Cauldron guttersnipe was given a position in the palace. When Key could swagger around downstairs, grin and knives bright, they were too scared to make more noise than the kitchen mice. Now Key was helpless they could vent as much spite as they liked. This was why you couldn't let yourself be helpless. Not for anybody.

"Hope you learned your lesson, gutter brat. What's that?"

The other guard yanked back a fistful of thick black hair to show Key's face, his gold skin gone ghastly pale under the blood splatter.

Red stained Key's wild grin. "I can still take you."

Even though Key couldn't stand, the guard took a step back. Key staggered and almost fell.

"Cobra, help me!" Rahela rushed forward.

Lord Popenjoy uncoiled to his full considerable height. Emer watched as the guards recognized the simply dressed man in the lady's chamber as the Golden Cobra, whose very name was a hiss of scandal. My lady, my lady, why? They stoned harlots in town squares! Emer winced. Rahela and the Cobra were occupied half carrying, half pulling Key towards Rahela's bed.

Her bed! Lady Rahela and the Cobra had never seen a disaster they didn't long to escalate.

The vipers manhandled Key onto the mattress. He was wrapped in a length of coarse white linen, the material they swathed bodies in before they threw them down into the ravine. The guards at the Room of Dread and Anticipation had already put Key in his shroud. When the trailing linen caught on a bedpost and wrenched off the drying blood and open wounds, Key made a noise through his teeth.

Rahela murmured comfort. The Cobra patted Key's arm. They needed cold-blooded practicality, but it turned out the notorious Golden Cobra was a soft touch.

Flat on his stomach, face pressed into a pillow, Key opened one eye a crack. "I thought you were afraid of me."

The Cobra raised an eyebrow. "It's all the murders. I'm not onside for that."

The guards sniggered at the coward of the court.

"But you're on my side now?" Key prompted.

The Cobra looked at Key's back bleeding through the linen, and sighed in annoyed surrender. "Sure, Mister Friendship-Is-Dark-Magic."

With an effort, Key offered his hand. The Cobra shook his head ruefully at himself or the world, and gave Key a gentle high five. Then his mask of manners slid back on, the attitude more aristocratic than his jewels. Lord Popenjoy wheeled on the guards with a gold glint in his dark eye. The taunting curl of his lip reminded Emer of her lady.

"I would have bribed you guards to leave, but you had to be rude. Better watch out. I put the rep in reprehensible. And I love a man in uniform."

One guard literally turned and fled. The other hesitated at the door, then mumbled, "I get off work at four."

The Cobra gave a startled laugh, before joining Rahela in rifling through the medicine basket. Suddenly Emer hated him. Flirting in her lady's chamber. Calling her lady Rae . The Cobra owned a golden harlots' den, yet people whispered more about Lady Rahela's sinful ways. The stain Lord Popenjoy could wash off in a day would mark a woman forever.

As Rahela cut bandages into strips, Key's hand reached out, then faltered, hesitating to even brush hers. His hand dropped as if he didn't feel worthy to touch her.

His face was the colour of old bone against scarlet satin pillows. "I didn't want them to bring me here. You don't like blood."

Rahela knelt by the bed. Her lip curved, black beauty mark rising like a doomed ship on a wave as she tried to smile for him. "Vipers together, remember? Evil wins at last. I'll take care of you."

Key gazed as though catching sight of his own soul in a mirror. As if he were a starving shark, she the only blood in the world, and all else bitter waters.

The Cobra reeled back against the bedpost. His eyes met Emer's, silently screaming.

Emer was glad somebody else got to be stunned and horrified for a change.

"I'll get rid of these." Emer snatched up the bloodied linens, though it was not her job as a lady's maid to clean.

Emer stomped down the winding stairs, dropped off the linens at the laundry, and sneaked into the side courtyard. She glanced one way, then another, knelt beside the shallow grave at the foot of a decorative tree and unearthed the short sword buried there.

That was the bargain she and Key had made. He'd taught Emer a few passes with the sword in exchange for her teaching him the alphabet. Even if Key lived, he wouldn't fight again. She would never advance in her training now.

She performed the passes he'd taught her, hopeless though it was. The light of the topmost tower burned above her like a star. Night air laid cool palms on her hot cheeks.

"You move well," a male voice said, autocratic and unexpected.

Emer's heart hopped up and jammed in her throat as though she'd swallowed a toad. She choked it down as she dropped a curtsy for Lord Marius Valerius.

Though surprise conversations with the nobility were always bad news, Emer felt cautiously pleased by his praise. Everybody knew Lord Marius would have been the greatest warrior of his generation, if he'd completed his training. When Key tried to teach her, Emer noticed his earnest efforts to let her land hits on him. Emer had assumed she must be terrible.

"Thank you, my lord."

"You're the girl who modified Lady Lia's gown for me," said Lord Marius's cool, forbidding voice. "What's your name?"

Oh no, why was this happening? Emer blamed the Golden Cobra for this sudden curiosity about servants' identities. The Cobra was always prowling belowstairs trying to interact with you as if he was the same as you. Emer wasn't the same as him. Emer didn't have mountains of gold and several mansions, and Emer didn't want nobles to know her name.

There was security in anonymity. When you receded into the shadows belowstairs, you receded from noble minds. If a noble remembered you, they might resent you.

‘Forbidding' was the perfect word for Lord Marius. His uniform was pristine white, suggesting he'd changed after his rooftop chase. He stood against the dark like an ice cliff. His face was a locked and barred door, and his voice brooked no escape.

If she was discovered lying to the king's most trusted friend, she would suffer for it. "Emer," she admitted.

Many nobles had weak chins and weaker minds, but the white wolf eyes on Lord Marius were distressingly sharp.

"You're Lady Rahela's maidservant."

Emer concentrated on the point of her sword, instead of her fear. "Yes."

"You didn't think I would be interested to know that when I hired you?"

"If I'd mentioned it, you wouldn't have hired me."

"Because you might have sabotaged Lady Lia's gown."

He talked like a teacher, but she'd never been permitted much schooling.

"I didn't sabotage anything," Emer pointed out.

Only now, with the gown worn and the ball over, could Emer prove she hadn't had evil intentions. Why would Lord Marius trust her without proof?

Forget sabotaging the dress. Emer could have skimped on the material and sold pieces of that fancy fabric at a fancy price down in the marketplace. She hadn't, for the same reason she hadn't told Rahela the truth of Lia's character. She'd betrayed Lia enough.

"I heard you reported Lady Lia's confidences to Lady Rahela," Lord Marius continued slowly. "Was this a way to convey apologies to Lady Lia for your treachery?"

Be a foolish way to convey apologies, as Emer hadn't intended anybody to find out.

Emer shrugged. "Just wanted to earn some coin, my lord."

He'd been kind to Lady Lia. Emer was sure he expected a return for his kindness, as though Lia's heart was as easily purchased as Emer's needle. Lord Marius was only taking an interest in Emer because he desired to play hero for Lia again. He didn't suspect her of evil conspiracy.

That should have been a relief.

Emer wished Lord Marius had remained conveniently oblivious to service staff. "I altered the dress because I wanted to. I won't apologize or explain. I prefer doing to talking."

There was a long enough silence that Emer dared to hope the duke's son had departed. Her focus stayed on the blade, not lords, tower windows, stars, or anything else above her.

Directly behind her, Lord Marius's grave voice said: "Adjust your grip on the hilt."

His large hands, made for strangling, demonstrated on empty air. Emer adjusted her grip.

"Bend your legs. If you go low to the ground, you can't be moved."

In Emer's experience, talk of legs went nowhere good. Lord Marius's hands hovered above her waist so only the ghostly warmth of nearness guided her. Emer followed his instructions. She liked the idea of being immovable.

"Orient your swing," Lord Marius continued. "You need force from your body, not simply your arm."

The ghost of warmth moved, illustrative, to her shoulder. Emer obeyed, and swung. That did feel different.

The ghost of warmth disappeared as Lord Marius stepped away, hands clasped behind his back. "Nobody will expect a serving woman to do battle. You can take them by surprise. A killing move will mean they never recover from that surprise."

He walked off without a goodbye. Puzzled, Emer studied his retreating back, the tumble of ice-and-dark curls and white scholar's uniform disappearing into the gloom. He was a cold man, so she wondered what had inspired him to offer her advice. Whatever he wanted, she had no intention of giving it to him.

Her speculation was broken off by realization. Lord Marius didn't linger around the ladies' tower like other noblemen. He must be here because he'd followed the Cobra, and seen the Cobra enter Rahela's room. Now Lord Marius was headed in the direction of the king's chambers.

The vipers needed to know what he told King Octavian. Emer had learned a great many useful things from eavesdropping.

She tucked her sword behind a tree and ran after Lord Marius. She'd escorted her lady back and forth from the royal bedroom under cover of darkness a thousand times. Nobody knew how to stealthily access the king's chambers as well as she. King Octavian didn't sleep in the main palace surrounded by staff as his parents had. He occupied a separate bachelor's quarters, where he could have his fun undisturbed.

Over the small bridge, through the garden with the three swan statues, head down and steps soft as she passed the laziest guard posted on the fourth point of the perimeter. Just as usual. Except instead of entering the hall, Emer darted towards a willow tree leaning against the building. She swung from a green-veiled branch onto the eaves of the roof pointed as an accusing finger, crawling on her stomach to peer in through the tall diamond-paned windows. The king's guards always warned him not to leave windows open, and Octavian carelessly kept doing it.

Emer reached the open window in time to hear the king ask, "Where did you get this?"

The most famous men in the kingdom stood against the backdrop of a tapestry commemorating the first king and the First Duke's battle against the fiends. King Octavian had a key in his hand, and an ugly expression on his face.

"As if I didn't know."

The problem was, Octavian wasn't stupid. Kingship seemed designed to make his intelligence atrophy, but it did pop out occasionally.

Always at the most inconvenient times. If Lord Marius said the word, the Cobra got his head chopped off.

Lord Marius was silent.

Octavian continued undaunted. "If someone stole from me, you would bring me the culprit in chains. Unless it was one particular culprit."

Lord Marius was vehemently silent.

King Octavian said, with distaste, "I know you're… fond of the man, but—"

"I'm not fond of the man," growled Lord Marius, so fiercely Emer thought of the country saying: when you howl, you're hit . "Lady Rahela has ingratiated herself with both the Cobra and a foreign princess. The ice raiders are a formidable threat. If powerful people in your court are conspiring with the Ice King, we must get to the heart of the conspiracy."

Emer hated the sinking feeling when you realized you'd been lied to, that the very ground you believed would support you could not be trusted. It made her want to strike out wildly in all directions. Anyone might be an enemy.

Were Rahela and the Cobra conspiring with the royal family of Tagar? They would never tell her if they were. She was only a servant.

Octavian's mouth pulled tight. "Do you think he's had her?"

His Majesty's priorities were interesting.

"An unmarried noblewoman? Impossible!"

Lord Marius's jaw was scandalized granite. Emer rolled her eyes. Everybody knew the King and Lord Marius were childhood friends, but the two men weren't alike.

The train of King Octavian's brocade dressing gown swept the floor as he paced, concealing mosaics depicting an empty throne. "Do you think Rahela likes him?"

"I imagine so." Lord Marius's tone was that of a man who would rather be discussing ice raiders. "Women are obsessed with the Cobra."

Last time Emer checked, she was a woman. She was not obsessed with Lord Popenjoy.

"Do you think she's lying about the prophecy?" A new note entered Octavian's voice. It struck Emer as dangerous. "You don't believe I'm the Emperor?"

No answer came from the lone honest man at court. The king's frown darkened.

It was difficult to maintain appropriate awe towards your monarch when you'd seen him sleepy and rumpled in the mornings. He'd cling to Rahela's unclothed body while Emer grimly tried to get her into her gown. To Octavian, not getting caught was a game. To Emer and her lady, it was their lives at stake.

There were people who, when eating an orange, would not share a single segment. All the worlds are his empire , said the prophecy. Spoiled as if he were forever a royal child, the king believed satisfied desire was his right, and unsatisfied desire was robbery.

"I have always had faith in you," Lord Marius said at last. "I believe you could be the Emperor. More important, I believe you can be a good king."

Octavian might be the Emperor, Emer supposed. He was already randomly born to unfathomable power. Why not more? That was how the gods had ordered the world. The powerful grew more powerful. Those born on their knees died crawling on their bellies.

Still, Emer thought Lord Marius was naive. None of the songs said the Emperor was going to be good .

Octavian was suddenly all smiles. "I never believed the rumours about you."

"Whatever the rumours might be, I thank you for that," replied Lord Marius. "I never believed the vile gossip about you and Lady Rahela either. I know your honour too well."

Hilarious!

The king said nothing. A faint flush ran along the tops of his cheekbones. Whenever Octavian felt shame, he let the emotion turn like a snake and strike out at someone else.

"I know we have grown apart in recent years," Lord Marius continued. "It's my fault."

As soon as Marius blamed himself instead of the king, Octavian looked more interested in what Lord Marius had to say.

"When the court was in upheaval over who would be named prime minister, I spilled your list of candidates to Lady Katalin before she was banished. She sold the information to Lord Pio the next night. If you wish for my life, it is yours."

For all his cool airs, Lord Marius had a highly dramatic personality.

From the abrupt white ring around the king's eyes, Octavian agreed. "Lost gods, man, there's no need for that! We were young. I might have mentioned the list to Rahela myself." Octavian regarded the Last Hope with increased warmth, and sketched an hourglass shape with both hands. "Lady Katalin? Fine-looking woman. Very like her daughter. Is it older women for you, then?"

He slapped Lord Marius on the back. Lord Marius visibly repressed the urge to take the royal hand off at the wrist.

"I took vows."

There came upon His Majesty the expression of a man who had heard about vows before, and strongly preferred not to hear about vows again. "I don't doubt you, Marius."

"You should. The Golden Cobra knew of my crime. He blackmailed me to gain an entrée to court. As my friend, his title and position in society wasn't questioned. But I never saw him before the day he blackmailed me. I have no idea what the truth of him might be."

Something unsettling lay beneath Lord Marius's confession, rushing black water under a thin veneer of ice. Emer had believed the king was the more dangerous of the pair. Perhaps she was wrong.

"He blackmailed you into attending all those plays?" breathed Octavian. "The man's a monster!"

"He didn't specifically require me to attend the plays." Lord Marius shook his head. "That's not important. Listen. Why are they after the Flower of Life and Death? Lady Rahela and her new allies clearly have a purpose. I believe the end might be found in the beginning. We don't know where the Cobra comes from, or where his true allegiances lie. I intend to find out."

"Do you think he's a spy from Tagar, sent to us ahead of the princess?" Octavian gave a thoughtful hum. "All these years. You must hate the Cobra worse than poison. You're right, we must unravel his spider's web. Even before, I knew his influence was growing too great for safety. He's schemed to become the darling of the common people."

The Last Hope raised an eyebrow. "He's generous to his servants and charitable to the less fortunate." He hesitated. "Do you truly not care about my betrayal?"

The man's sense of responsibility was as overdeveloped as his muscles. Octavian set a hand on one burly shoulder.

"Atone for your actions with loyalty. Can you find out the Cobra's mysterious past?"

Lord Marius said evenly, "I can. The mountains hold all answers."

Shock passed over Octavian's face, rendering him a boy again, a squire who might be capable of awe. "You mean to go to the Oracle? You would need his true name."

"I believe I have it."

"Oh." Octavian sounded curious. "What is it?"

There was another deliberate silence. From a man who would not lie, quiet was a slap in the face. It said, ‘If I spoke, I would lie through my teeth.'

The new warmth faded from the king's expression.

"You were always closer to Lucius than me," Lord Marius responded finally, and the knuckles of Octavian's hand went briefly white. "But you can trust me as much as you trusted him."

The king's mouth twisted. His laugh was twisted, too. "As much as that?"

Lord Marius took it as an insult. "I know I am unpleasant by nature and difficult to like. But believe me, I am true. I will find out this secret and lay it at your feet."

Octavian's face softened slightly. "After the Queen's Trials I will hold a celebration of my new bride. Take the opportunity to ride to the mountains unseen."

Lord Marius's voice was dry. "I will be desolated to miss the party."

The king almost smiled. In that moment, Emer saw how they might have loved each other once.

"Let me make you an offer. A general doesn't have to wield a weapon. General Nemeth is old and poor. I don't need an obvious weakness in the commander of my armies. I need a man whose loyalty is unshakable, who will obey me until death. How does that sound to you?"

"All I ever wanted was to serve a worthy leader," said Lord Marius. "I would gladly die for that."

The prospect of glory didn't seem to move the Last Hope much. Perhaps because he was rich. Perhaps because he was inflexible.

The king had spent his life surrounded by flattering courtiers and wicked women. He could never trust anyone's affection. He watched Lord Marius with measuring eyes.

"The Oracle only offers a man a single answer in his lifetime. There is always a cruel price. What do you wish in return for doing this? Ask me for a reward."

Lord Marius hesitated. The king's lips curved like the hook that had caught his fish. Lord Marius was a taller man than the king, but you couldn't tell how tall someone was when they bowed. So in a way, the king was always the tallest man in the room.

The Last Hope bowed his head in submission. The two men looked like a tapestry, the shining king and the perfect knight, the valiant heroes who would defeat evil and save a kingdom.

As one of the evildoers, Emer heard Lord Marius's voice as the voice of doom.

"I will hear the great secret from the Oracle's lips, no matter the price. I will drag the traitors to your throne for punishment. I will lead your armies against the ice raiders and all who dare rise against you. I want only one reward." Lord Marius lifted his ice-and-dark head, face cold and empty as chambers for the dead. "Command war. Condemn worlds. Leave the Cobra to me ."

As Emer raced up the stairs of the tower to tell the vipers that the king believed they were spies and traitors, and Lord Marius planned to expose all the Cobra's secrets, she heard raised voices and stopped, startled.

The whole court believed Lady Rahela held the Golden Cobra in her wicked clutches. Emer wished it were true. Having lost the king's favour, it made sense to seek protection elsewhere. But the Cobra was never serious about anyone, so he could only ruin and not rescue her reputation, and as far as Emer could tell Rahela hadn't even tried to seduce him. Emer had listened in on their secret meetings, and she certainly hoped ‘back it up' and ‘do it backwards in high heels' meant they were rehearsing that awful dance.

At least, Emer thought, Rahela had gained the Cobra's friendship. He was known to be a loyal friend. There might be some security to that.

Except now the stone walls echoed with the ring of a deep voice. The Cobra, who was never serious, was shouting.

"This is their world, not ours! You have to stop before someone else gets hurt."

When Emer stealthily slid the door open, Rahela was looking at Key. He shifted in his sleep and moaned, pain breaking through his slumber. She reached out and brushed back his wild hair, ever so lightly, and Key calmed under her touch. Anyone would have thought she cared.

She smiled bright as the flames of hell. "I don't want anyone to get hurt. But it doesn't actually matter. These people aren't real."

Only she didn't care.

The Cobra turned away in disgust. "These people are as real as we are."

Rahela wheeled on him. "Keep fretting about these characters. Keep floating through this world like a ghost afraid to touch anything. You lie to yourself, because you don't want to believe you're—"

"Dead?" the Cobra asked softly.

The silence rang like a scream in a tomb.

The Cobra shoved Rahela aside. When he wrenched the door open, he saw Emer. The nation's spymaster said not a word. He nodded to her, then stormed down the stairs.

The alliance between Lord Popenjoy and Lady Rahela was broken. Key was ruined. Her lady lied when she talked about being a team. There was no nest of vipers together. There never had been.

Emer would keep her secrets.

The next days were full of surprises. When the guards moved them from the favourite's airy chambers to the dank room at the base of the ladies' tower, Emer expected Rahela to throw a tantrum. Their new chamber was half the size, dark with barred windows. The floor was red mosaics, showing the moment after the godchild was murdered by his father, fresh blood drenching the dark earth of Eyam to change it forever. Rahela shrugged, observed the decor matched her dresses, and continued telling stories by Key's bedside.

One thing Emer found unsurprising was Lia didn't move into the chamber Rahela had vacated. Lady Lia, too careful to risk making enemies, wouldn't occupy the favourite's chamber until after the Queen's Trials. Emer tried hard not to think about the tournament, with its attendant dangers, or what might happen after.

Key was the greatest surprise of all. The wounds on his back knit together almost at once. By the fourth day, he could rise from the bed. It made Emer recall the legends of Valerius berserkers, and the new story that someone had seen Lord Marius get stabbed in a tavern brawl and walk away without a scratch.

Absurd. Lord Marius wouldn't go to a tavern.

They said Valerius bastards never survived. Perhaps that simply meant noblewomen got better care when they bore their little lords and ladies. Lord Marius's father was said to be rapacious with common wenches. Emer supposed it was possible.

Rahela talked about Key getting well soon. She was deluded.

Valerius bastard or not, Key would never be truly well again. Emer had seen the damage done to muscles that should have stayed beneath his skin. He would never walk like a shadow turned liquid the way he used to. He was still leaning against bedposts and sinking down into chairs and generally getting in the way, especially during the palace guards' removal of their belongings from the favourite's chamber. Thanks to Key's invalid clumsiness, it took the guards a whole night and day to switch rooms.

Whenever he showed weakness, Rahela was all concern. "Do you want to lie down? What can I do for you?"

Today red thread fell down her moonlight-coloured skirt in drops like bloody tears. Key stretched out on the new bed with his wild black head cradled in her blood-and-moon lap, listening as she told him a story. Usually his expression was either bored, amused or flatly murderous. It was profoundly unsettling to see him happy.

Many maids had an eye for Key. He didn't possess money or status, so their attraction was based on his beautiful face and hideous reputation. Their wits had clearly gone begging and received no alms. Admiring men always seemed ridiculous to Emer, but never more so than with this one. Perhaps Key was a Valerius bastard. Perhaps he was a typical abyss foundling, swallowing sparks so young he was always burning. Perhaps, if Lady Katalin hadn't picked up a companion for her daughter from the abyss edge on a whim, Emer would be the same. Whatever the reason, Key was less a reasonable human being and more a wayward force of nature personified. Some rabid imp of darkness or wild hobgoblin, puppeteering a human fa?ade from one murder scene to the next.

And now the feral goblin was in love.

"Teach me to read," requested Key, so Rahela fetched her book for his next lesson.

Key, who had learned his alphabet from Emer, was shamelessly pretending to Rahela he was picking it up fast.

As he often did when their lady wasn't around, Key took out the ruby earring he kept tucked in his jerkin. Red light made sparkling play across his face. Emer had told him repeatedly to pawn the jewel, and knew he never would.

"Why does reading matter to you?" Emer demanded.

The highest station a palace guard could achieve was serving the king directly, and Key definitely did not have ambitions in that direction. Apparently, he'd acquired an item he wanted and now no longer cared about money. Emer had to collect his wages every week, and one day she would keep them.

"According to the story, you learn how to be real by being loved," Key answered. "But I think when you become more real, you learn to love someone the right way. I was born wrong. Everything I've ever done was wrong. I've never known how to be anything someone wanted. If I learn more, I'll learn to serve her better."

"She spoke not a word in your defence when you were whipped," Emer reminded him. "You're nothing but a pet she's fond of. If you died she might shed a tear before she found a replacement."

Key's shrug was fluid despite the whip marks. "It's more than I had before."

His attention fixed on Rahela's return, hungry for the crumbs that fell from her table, as if that would be enough to live upon. Rahela was writing out a children's tale for Key. They read together about toys taking a long journey towards becoming real.

This new version of Emer's mistress was strange, but she wasn't stupid. So Emer couldn't understand why she was so incredibly foolish in this one area. The old Rahela was keenly aware of her power over men. The old Rahela would never believe a twenty-year-old man, presented with the country's most famously seductive woman, might look to her as a mentor.

Key gazed up at her, galaxy-eyed rather than starry-eyed, with more stars and far more darkness. Rahela smiled down at him.

The question broke from Emer. "Are you not preparing for the Queen's Trials, my lady?"

"I am," Rahela said calmly. "My plan involves a sword."

This news visibly delighted Key and dismayed Emer. Rahela's plans had never involved swords before.

She seemed like a different person, wearing Rahela's face. She schemed like Rahela, lied like Rahela, smiled Rahela's wicked smile, but what she wanted and how she thought was a world apart from the woman Emer knew.

Except Emer had never known Rahela. She'd imagined their closeness, because she was pathetically lonely. As if faith ever made anything true.

She shut the door on the absurd pair. Real, indeed. Everyone lived in their own reality, and could never invite anybody else in. Ultimately each person was alone, the only real person in a vast desert of a universe, always longing and never able to find someone to believe in. If they ever did believe, they were deceived.

Outside was cold and dark and lonely, which Emer preferred. It felt more true. Illusions were made of the stuff of gold candlelight of Lia's room, filtered through a rippling pale sheet. Illusion was Lia's whisper, gentle as a caress.

"One day each of us must marry. What will having a husband be like?" Lia had paused, for a breath that felt like eternity. "What do husbands even want?"

Emer cleared her throat. "Many things."

In her pretty imploring way, Lia said, "Show me."

They had a handful of nights before the betrayal. Enough time for a thousand lies. The lie of endless softness that was the silvered expanse of Lia's bared skin, the silken luxury of her mouth offered for a stolen kiss. The beads of sweat on Lia's throat when Emer's kisses trailed downwards and Lia threw her head back, gleaming more precious than diamonds. Luxury was something Emer had to steal and could never keep.

Belowstairs the men bragged about getting beneath fine ladies' silk skirts, laughed about swiving nobles and sullying reputations. All knew Lady Lia was pure as a pearl. A man's touch could stain a lady, but Emer's couldn't even stain. Nobody would ever think it counted, as though Rahela was right and Emer wasn't even a person.

Nobody would ever know, but Emer knew. She was a false, treacherous villain. At least she wasn't a fool.

Emer took her sword from its hiding place and cut the night to pieces. Above her Lia's tower window shone bright as the moon, and just as unreachable. The Queen's Trials were coming. The whole court knew the king wanted Lia for his bride.

Caring for a noble was spilling your own blood into dust. Emer would not do it. She would not .