BY THE TIME the soldier came back for her, Valentina had almost sorted everything through. She chanted the key points to herself beneath her breath, over and over, so that she would not forget.
She had been arrested.
Aunt Dulcie had been arrested.
Aunt Dulcie had poisoned a powerful lord.
Aunt Dulcie had confessed to poisoning a powerful lord.
Aunt Dulcie was lying.
Somehow, she knew it. She knew like she knew her own breath, her own heartbeat. She knew it.
She just couldn't prove it.
"Miss?" At the sound of that soft voice, she glanced up. It was the soldier who had placed the chains around Aunt Dulcie's wrists, who had tied her up, and—
The iron door to her prison clicked open. Golden light flooded her tiny cell, bathing her in its warmth. She stood still, unmoving, even as the narrow possibility of escape gleamed tantalizingly before her.
The soldier shot her a cautionary glance, as though he could read her mind. Maybe he could. They were strange people, these Infernalians, with their brash, swaggering ways and glowing illuros, such unnatural things. The Enfatala had not bothered with the complex hierarchy of illuros that Infernalians clung so desperately to even when they had served as serfs to Enfatalan princes. It was customary for the people of her line to rely on familiars and spirit guides, on lengthy incantations and spellsongs to enhance their raw magic. But perhaps she had no claim to these ancestors of old. Her Enfatalan blood was only a single drop after all, although it was a drop that coursed through every vein and vessel in her body, burning through her skin. She could feel it.
It was her inheritance; it was her curse. And soon she would have to face it.
This man, who was not a man but a boy, wore only a single unadorned cuff around his wrist, wrought in the simple Aldharan style. A servant, then.
"Losur Elio wishes to see you," the servant said.
Elio. Valentina licked her lips. That was his name.
It was not the name she would have given a monster, although it seemed to fit him well.
"I–I don't care to see him," she said, her voice shaking only a little.
"You don't have that much of a choice."
"Oh?" She arched an eyebrow, a sense of rising anger pushing against the fear she felt. "Am I a prisoner here?"
"You did lie during an official inquiry," the servant said smoothly. "And with your aunt detained, all residents of Perenna House are considered suspects and will be interrogated in due time. I don't suppose you want us to go fetch your friends and bring them here?"
Valentina stared. The servant spoke as well as a noble; he was hardly illiterate like others of his station. It was odd; she got the sense that he could see right through her, as if he understood the tangle of emotions clouding her mind. As if he knew exactly how to manipulate that knowledge to induce her to do his bidding.
"I'm waiting," he said, breaking her thoughts.
"I don't want you to bring Ninette and Elisa here," she forced out.
"Good." He seemed relieved as he propped open the door and reached for her arm. "Leave the beast behind."
On his perch near the barred window, Iri glanced up for a second, head cocked. And then promptly went back to preening his wing feathers.
YOU ARE READING
Vipersong
FantasyA drop to heal...A drop to KILL... ---- Seer of ghosts Valentina Mora works as a trained healer in her aunt's apothecary house. There, she is able to hide her ancient and reviled Enfatalan blood from those who see it as a threat. But her illusion of...
