From the rooftop’s edge, the western half of the city spilled out like a map of itself. At their feet, the long fall of Oldgate, its switchback avenue like a child’s drawing of a snake, and just beyond it, the pale ice of the river. The farther quarters glittered past its banks, torches and lanterns and candlelight. From here, the divisions between Riverport and Newmarket, Longhill and Seepwater all faded away. Only the Temple stood as a landmark, rising in stone above the night-dyed wood of the Inlisc buildings. And then the city walls, and the long, rolling darkness of the land beyond them. Seen from here, Kithamar was a single, vast organism, and they stood at its head. Above them, the waning moon and the vast spread of stars. It was beautiful and it was eerie. Elaine broke the silence.
“Andomaka.” Not Greetings, Cousin or Blessings for the new year or any of the more formal etiquette that could have passed between them. The girl was at ease with her, her guard down. It was like seeing a mouse trained to enjoy the company of cats.
“Elaine,” Andomaka said, matching the girl’s tone and cadence to keep her feeling at ease. “How is your heart?”
The girl’s laugh was short and hard as a cough. “It’s been better. I have…”
Andomaka waited, thinking that she was searching for words, then looked over to see that she was weeping. Andomaka made herself take the girl’s hand. Elaine’s fingers were strangely warm. Or maybe it was only that her youth kept the cold at bay.
“It’s all right,” Andomaka said. “Whatever it is, it will be all right.”
“It’s stupid. I shouldn’t be… I should be happy.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m free.”
Annoyance pricked at Andomaka’s breast as she began to guess the shape of the girl’s distress. “You’ve ended things with…”
Elaine looked up at the sky, her lips a quivering smile. “I have. It’s the only way to keep him safe.”
Well, that was inconvenient in a morbidly amusing way. As long as the girl had been sneaking out to meet her clandestine lover, there had been a time of vulnerability when she wasn’t under the eyes of the redcloaks. By protecting her lover from her father’s wrath, she’d made herself safe. Or safer, anyway. Andomaka looked down over the edge of the palace, to the cliffs below, and then back toward the bonfire. It wouldn’t be impossible to shove the girl over the edge and call it an accident. There were so many eyes on the rooftop, though, that it would be a gamble. Even an accusation that she’d killed the girl would come back to haunt her when she—or Ausai in her body—took back the city. She considered the girl’s hand in hers. Pull the arm straight to lock her elbow, and then turn at the waist. Elaine would have no choice but to swing forward. Would she let go when she fell? Or would she pull Andomaka over with her?
No, she thought. There were too many risks. It was better to be careful. She didn’t realize she’d sighed until the girl squeezed her hand.
“Thank you,” Elaine said, and Andomaka understood she’d taken the sign as sympathy.
She leaned over and kissed the girl’s brow. Perhaps there was another way. “Are you sure of this?”
“I’m daughter to the prince. What else can I do?”
You are not, Andomaka thought. Such drama and dudgeon to protect the honor of a bloodline that was already corrupt. She looked down toward the lights of Riverport. Right now, somewhere on those distant streets and low towers, a lovestruck boy was likely staring up at the palace, his heart twisted in the same petty grief as Elaine’s. It would have been endearing if the future of the city didn’t ride on it.
“You wouldn’t be the first person to have a lover,” Andomaka said with a gentle laugh. “Ausai shared his bed with more women than his wife. Everyone knew.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Because he’s a man?”
She thought she saw a blush on the girl’s cheek, but it was hard to be certain in the moonlight. “That makes it different.”
“It does. But it doesn’t make it impossible.” She turned the girl to look at her. The whites of Elaine’s eyes were shot with red, and her eyelids were so puffy it looked like she’d been struck. She was an ugly weeper. “We give our lives to the city, you and I. We marry for the city. We bear children for the city. And our family, and our blood. It’s the sacrifice we’re called to, and it’s our duty. But it isn’t everything we are. You have to take the pleasures you can in this life. They won’t be given to you.” Andomaka coughed, surprised by the passion in her own voice. She sounded almost angry. That was interesting. “What is his name?”
“I’m not… I don’t…”
“Name him.”
“Garreth.”
“Go to your Garreth,” Andomaka said. “Not as Elaine a Sal, daughter of the prince. Go as a woman to a man. Show him what there is in your life that he can claim, and what there isn’t. And find what there is of him that will sustain you.”
“You… do you… I mean, have you…?”
Andomaka understood the question and fought to keep the contempt from her voice. She would be who she needed to be for the moment. She could be someone else later. “I’m a woman too.”
The girl’s face seemed to blossom with surprise. No, not surprise. Hope. So that was something. A little permission to sin was all she’d needed. Just as effective in the long run as inviting her over the edge and into the air.
“Elaine!” They turned together to see a man silhouetted against the fire, striding toward them. Elaine pulled back her hand sharply, which was interesting in its own way. Andomaka looked from the dark man to the girl and back again, and the figure resolved into Halev Karsen.
She had known the man from the time they’d both been children, but always at a remove. He was known to be Byrn a Sal’s best friend and closest advisor. At the moment, he looked as angry as she had ever seen him. Or perhaps worried. He started to speak, then seemed to think better of it. Andomaka would have bet gold that the words he finally gave weren’t the ones in his mind. “Kint’s been looking for you.”
“I’m sorry,” Elaine said.
“Please attend your father now.”
Elaine nodded and walked away. Andomaka half expected her to look back, but she didn’t. She more than half expected Karsen to go with her, but he stayed.
“You’re looking well, Andomaka,” he said, and from him it was not an invitation.
“As are you, Halev. Power suits you.”
“I don’t believe that’s true.” There was something here she was missing. A hardness in his tone, and a care in how he chose his words. She couldn’t see what was behind it, but that he was on his guard was something. If Halev Karsen was concerned, then Byrn a Sal would be as well. And if they were concerned about her in particular, they were already a good way down a road she didn’t want them to travel. She smiled and took his arm, walking back toward the celebration and the fire.
“They’re beautiful, don’t you think?”
“What?”
“The young ones. It’s hard to believe we were that age once.”