I toyed with the leather binding, a breath away from skewering it into my chest, through muscle and bone. “Gods, what an afternoon I’ve had, Lycandor,” she breathed. At the sound of my name on her tongue, all thoughts of piercing my heart dissolved to nothing. There’d be nothing to spear anyhow, not when it had leapt from my ribs.
“It’s rather beautiful, isn’t it?” Her left hand, the one dripping with blood, pointed to the bodies, a shard of glass peeking through her fingers.The carafe. “He bleeds such a lovely colour.” She gestured to the second acolyte, now dead alongside the other. I returned my gaze to hers.
“It is rather beautiful,” I agreed, no longer wishing to impale myself but to fall to my knees instead.
But what needed to be done had to be done standing.
I turned, lifting the door from where it lay on the floor and wedged it back into place. Boots sloshing through blood, I approached her side.
“Seamstress,” I tutted, finding delight in the way the last of the acolytes’ eyes widened in horror. “You do love to make a mess of your rooms.”
“A pretty mess?” she asked, all heavy lids and rosy cheeks.
“The prettiest,” I agreed.
“Your Holiness…a penance! Every limb should be forsaken. The High Druid will see her stripped of every one.”
I peeled my eyes from Ashara to address the trembling acolyte at our front.
“What is your business in this chamber, Pietr? And where is Falstaff?”
Pietr blanched. Acolytes bled together; their skin, eyes, and shorn heads were usually indistinguishable from one to the next. But Pietr’s scent of desire, an oil-slick whenever a penance was due, was always his tell.
A weight at my side had me stiffening. Ashara leaned into me, her shoulder pressing into the crook of my elbow. I held a breath, waiting to see if she’d retract. When she didn’t, I returned the pressure, just slightly, straightening beside her.
“He left with a vial of her blood, Your Holiness, before the wayward wretch attacked us like some feral beast. We came to assist in collecting samples, to aid your endeavour, you see, to serve,” he sputtered, dropping his belt to outstretch his hands, his palms stained with her blood. I licked my lips. Strange how the craving for grace had somehow diminished. All I could taste washer.Ashara spun, her presence leaving my side, and twirled her dress in the blood at her feet, eyes closing, another smile etched on her face.
“Did I ask for your aid, Pietr?” My eyes were on Ashara, even as I asked him the question. Faster and faster she spun, drawing circles of red with the edge of her slippers.
“Well, n-no, Your Holiness… I—”
“Did I give you permission to come here? To lay your filthy hands on her?” I looked at him then, at his thin, exposed neck.
Ashara stopped her spinning and returned to me, taking my hand. Together, we edged closer towards him. I thrust my other hand out to grasp the acolyte’s throat, pinning him against the wall. She dropped her head onto the ledge of my forearm, resting along its length as I choked him, his gasps for air vibrating down the muscle.
“He’s the one who touched me before,” she mused. “The one whoinspectedme.”
My hand grew slack, and he heaved in a breath, rasping and sputtering. I dipped my helm to meet her eyes, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at him.
“I felt sad, I think…that day. And frightened.” Her brow creased, small furrows deepening to firm lines. “And shame. So much shame.” My veins hollowed with it, something twisting every capillary.
“But I feel wonderful now.” She shrugged and patted my chest, just over my heart. Returning her head to my arm, she nuzzled into it as though intending to sleep, her nose resting in its crook.
I returned the pressure, his bones readying to pop.
“He touched me…” She peered up, lifting her head. “Here.” She pointed to her core, and my hand itched for my dagger.
Her joy swirled around us, flowery and thick, so at odds with her words. “He laughed between my legs. He poked and he prodded, and he…” She giggled, and I scanned her face, certain that for the first since it had been bestowed upon me, my blessing had failed. She was happy, triumphant with it, the air heavy with the flora of her, my every breath laced with it.
“He said I’d forgotten what my mouth was for.”
“Ye sinful wretch,” Pietr rasped as my hand had loosened, distracted by Ashara’s strange pollen. “Ye had bruised tonsils! She be a whore, Your Holiness. And now a murderous one. Allowme to return to my quarters, and I shall assist you however you—”I tightened my grip. “Seamstress?”
She beamed at me, and Other damn me, I beamed back.
“Yes?”
“How shall he die?”
