Evander nodded, waiting patiently while Soren coaxed Raiah back into his arms and carried her down another hallway to a parlor decorated in deep greens and bright gold. The rugs were plush underfoot, and Soren would’ve apologized for the dirt he left behind if he remembered his manners. But they’d traveled a long ways from Oeiras, and Amir’s wife welcomed them with a smile that didn’t fade, even when Soren demanded she show off a body free of scars.
“I’ve been warned of suchrionetkas, and I can assure you, my mind is my own,” Malia said as she parted the seam of her elegant robes and shrugged it off her shoulders, revealing unmarked skin across her shoulders and the top swell of her breasts.
“Van—the emperor has announced the threat?” Soren asked.
Malia inclined her head, the gold chains draped over her tied-back black hair shifting with the motion. “He has. The House of Vikandir has ensured that all members of our House and household carry no clockwork metal hearts in their chests.”
She straightened her robes, gazing at Soren with blue eyes lined in shimmering gold color. Her pale face looked lived-in, framed by gray hair threaded through the black, hints at her age that didn’t come through the youthfulness of her face. She was slender and decked out in the jewels of her office as lady of a House and wife to avezir.
Despite her assurances, Soren wasn’t quite ready to trust her.
“I’m hungry,” Raiah announced.
Malia’s smile became fond. “I’ll have a dinner tray prepared, and we can take our meal here if you like.”
“That would be best,” Soren said, putting Raiah down.
She immediately pushed her goggles off and tried to undo the strap beneath her chin but got frustrated with the buckle. Soren gently pulled her hands away and undid it, taking off her helmet. Her braids were frizzy and messy, in need of redoing, but that would have to wait.
Malia stood and bowed to a degree worthy of the heir to the Imperial throne. “I am glad to know the Imperial princess is alive and well. The rumors have not been kind to her absence.”
Soren ran a hand over Raiah’s head, the silent touch enough to keep her by his side. “What do you mean?”
“The House of Kimathi has called for a Conclave, partly because Joelle has been denied the right to see her great-granddaughter.” There was much Soren could say about that woman, but he kept silent instead. Malia noted his lack of response and nodded as she headed for the parlor’s door. “Amir will want to know you both have arrived safely, to say nothing of the emperor.”
“I’ll be the one to tell Vanya we’re here.”
Malia inclined her head in his direction before opening the door and talking briefly with a servant waiting outside. Then she closed it again and came to where they stood, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Dinner won’t take long to arrive. I’ve instructed a room be prepared for the both of you, as I’m quite certain you’d decline separate ones.”
Soren nodded. “Raiah stays with me.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.”
“I want a bath,” Raiah said, peering up at them both but not letting go of Soren’s hand.
Malia’s smile stretched wider. “We’ll make sure you get one, Your Imperial Highness.”
Raiah could have whatever she liked here in the questionable safety of the House of Vikandir so long as she never left Soren’s side.
Seven
VANYA
Vanya had promised Taisiya he would take the evening meal with her in his private courtyard before the dance of words that was the Conclave of Houses got underway in the morning. When he walked into the courtyard dressed in a casual set of robes, he saw the table occupied and the servants gone. At first, he thought the woman sitting there was Taisiya, but hisvalidedid not have so dark of skin as the woman who sat with her back to him.
Neither did she have a golden constellation tattoo wrapped around her throat, the shape of the Lion in those starbursts and lines.
Vanya’s steps faltered, and he came to a stop there in the middle of the courtyard, staring at the Dawn Star breaking bread alone.
“Your prayers are loud, and I would speak of them with you,” Callisto said, her voice ringing in the air.
For a moment, Vanya was frozen in place, caught in the orbit of a star god. The Dawn Star had not answered his family’s prayers in at least two generations. A small voice at the back of his mind wondered why she was here now, answering his.
She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, eyes like a field of stars, or maybe it was a trick of the light. The gown she wore was a deep blue, like the sky at twilight, and her smile looked nothing like the ones found on the carved-marble likenesses of her in the star temples.
Vanya bowed deeper than he ever had to his mother when she sat on the Imperial throne. “My lady.”
Callisto raised her hand, two fingers curling in his direction like a summons. “Sit and share your meal with me.”
