Now that I had a moment of quiet, I had to wonder exactly who I was dealing with here. The seneschals had said he was divine. I think they meant literally.
“You’re a demigod, aren’t you?” I asked.
“Was it the rising from the dead that gave it away?”
“What’s your name?”
“Lyr.”
Lyr. God of the sea. He’d been named for his father, the god I worshipped. No wonder I’d felt compelled to worship him when I first met him by the Thames.
Of all the people to kill…
Chapter 11
For the briefest of moments, Lyr glanced at me, then his gaze quickly darted away like he’d been burned. He was trying very hard not to look at me nearly naked in the bath.
Like all gods, the sea god had many names, depending on the culture. Dagon, Lyr, Poseidan, Yamm, and so on.
In the warm bath, I hugged my legs closer to my body. “So you’re half sea god, and half fae.”
“Yes.”
A breeze from the open arches rushed into the bathroom and lifted strands of his hair. A key around his neck glinted in the warm light. I wondered how much money I could fetch for a prize like that—whatever it was.
“And what exactly is an Ankou?” I asked.
His deep blue eyes shifted to me. For the briefest of moments, his face seemed to change, stoking a primal terror in the depths of my skull.
His eyes blazed with divine gold, his crown growing longer and spindly. The black tattoos on his body glowed with gold, shifting around his chest like living creatures. Shadows swirled around him, and his powerful body radiated light. He looked so terrifying and godlike that my heart stuttered to a stop.
This was how he’d appeared to me when he’d abducted me from my bedroom, but I hadn’t been able to see him as clearly in the dark.
Then, the image was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and I loosed another breath.
“You don’t know what the Ankou is?” he asked. “Do you remember so little from Ys?”
“The island drowned over a century and a half ago. It’s been a long time. I remember some things. I remember the day it drowned most vividly. I remember how the land lurched, and the palace towers crumbled, the bells ringing and ringing and then falling silent, crushed under gold and cedar and marble. Along with many of our people. I remember the screams all around me as the island sank, and how it felt when my true magic was pulled from my chest. The things that happened before aren’t quite as vivid. But I take it you lived in my kingdom?”
“In Ys I served your mother, the Queen, and I served the sea god as a high priest in the temple of the dead. I still do. I travel into the sea hell and help souls find peace. I grant solace to the worthy.”
I tilted my head back, breathing in the heavy, steamy air. It smelled of sand and salt—and faintly of verbena. I never wanted to leave the bath, though I wished I could bathe alone. My eyes kept drifting to Lyr’s chest, which irritated me.
“Do you ever wear a shirt?” I asked.
“I still have iron in my blood, courtesy of you. The sea air helps it to heal.”
A sharp sting pierced my own chest, and I touched it. It occurred to me that the Winter Witch had hurt me in the exact same spot where I’d shot Lyr.
“What happens next?” I asked.
“You seem to be recovering. Next, you get dressed. At dinner, we will explain your task to you.” He turned and crossed out of the room, leaving me with a few unanswered questions.
Specifically—what was I supposed to wear? And would Melisande be there to make me bash my head against a rock?
I rose from the bath, my skin now pink from the warm water. Bathwater dripped off my undies onto the stone floor. A pile of neatly folded cream towels lay on a marble sink, and I grabbed one of them to dry off.
Through the open windows, the breeze smelled like the Mediterranean—balmy and tinged with lemons.
I glanced at the archway that led back to Lyr’s room. Where did he expect me to change my clothes? I wasn’t getting dressed in front of him. Not only did I not want him to see me totally naked, but I didn’t want him seeing the scars under the tank top. Carved into my belly were the names of the demons who’d attacked me long ago, burned into my skin with iron.
What would the demigod think if he knew I’d been permanently defiled by demons?
I tucked the towel under my armpits, and I crossed back into the room with the bed. For the first time, I noticed all the bookshelves built into one of the walls across from the windows.
Lyr sat in a chair in the corner of the room, a book in his hand. He was still bare-chested, but he now wore a thin cloak over his shoulders.
He lifted his gaze from what he was reading. For one moment, his eyes burned with gold, and I could see his grip tightening on the book. “For the love of the gods, put some clothes on.”
“What clothes?”
“Behind you.”
I turned to find a gown on the bed—it was a deep blue, with tiny pearls inset into the delicate fabric. There wasn’t much fabric, either—a bodice that plunged down, and a slit in the front that would expose one of my legs. Not the other, though. I could—maybe—make use of that discarded dagger and the sheath.
A pair of shoes lay by the dress—simple blue flats, not the heels I usually wore.
I turned and shot him a sharp look. “Will you close your eyes?”
“My eyes are on my book.”
“Good.”
I snatched the dress off the bed, then turned, glaring at him while I backed toward his bedside table. His eyes were, in fact, on his book.
Swiftly, I lifted the arm sheath—dagger included—off the table. I folded it into the dress.
“I’m going into the bathroom to change,” I added. “Stay where you are.”
With the weapon hidden, I slipped back into the bathroom. I dropped the towel, keeping my gaze trained on the door.
First, I slipped the dress on over my head. Where had it come from? Maybe it was Melisande’s.
In any case, the smooth silk slid over my skin, and I let out a long breath at how good it felt against my body.
I’d once worn dresses this fine every day. I’d once sat on a throne—
I bit my lip, reminding myself I couldn’t get used to luxury. I was only here for a short while, then it was back to life as a dirtling. I’d been a princess once, but I wasn’t now. I’d spent the last hundred years carving away the vulnerable parts of myself, and I couldn’t let myself go soft again. Attachment to luxury would make me weak again.
The important thing to remember here was that everyone in this beautiful palace wanted me dead or hurt. And that’s why this dagger might come in handy.
I glanced at myself in the mirror. The difference between the dresses I’d worn long ago and this particular number is that this one showed off much more of my body. Apparently, aristocratic fae fashion had changed over the years.
The dress didn’t leave me many options for concealing the arm sheath. I couldn’t use my arms. The large dress slit would likely expose both calves when I walked. One thigh would stay hidden. Lyr’s arms were huge, but would it really fit around my thigh? Not as it was.
I opened the sharp prong on the buckle, then jabbed it through the leather to create a new hole at the very end of the strap.