Page 127 of Turncloak

The deserted street below suddenly became immensely more fascinating. Auria raked her gaze up and down it assiduously enough to carve lines in the cobbles. “Are you just being nice because you feel bad for the perjury? Because I saved your life at immense personal cost? Or because Tiernan died and you know I’m ruinously sad about it?”

“I’m not being nice, and I resent the accusation. I think you’re an obnoxious bat’s—”

“Bat’s arsehole, yes. Got it.”

A tentative truce struck, Auria pulled a second midnight blue cup out of her satchel—it was only civilized to carry a spare—and poured Nissa a cup of ginger tea, thinking the flavor profile might complement the spice of the achullah quite nicely. She was surprised to find she didn’t mind the scent of it fogging the room, earthen and clove-laced.

Nissa grinned devilishly and lifted her cup by the delicate handle, as though making a toast. “To reluctant allyship—and bringing down the scarlets and the whites.”

54

• • • •

A Secret on Sancsari

Dawn rose, and the rain eased, and when Auria and Nissa slipped out the back of the stakeout house—nodding amiably as they changed guards with Detective Dallar—it was officially Sancsari.

“I don’t suppose you’ll be celebrating the holiday,” Auria said to Nissa, exhaustion smudging her words together. Her tongue tasted stale and bitter from the overconsumption of ginger tea.

Nissa shook her head—the Eqorans were largely disinterested in the Saints as a construct, and though Nissa had lived in Vallin more than half her life, she’d never adopted the faith. “I usually get together with my grandmother, but she died a few months ago.”

Auria’s chest sank. “You didn’t tell me. Or anyone.”

Nissa shrugged, the sun accentuating the shadows beneath her eyes. If she felt any sorrow, she didn’t show it. “I keep my personal life personal.”

“Were you close?”

“I’m too tired for this, Marriosan. What are your plans?”

“Heading to my mothers’ house for a few hours of sleep, then spending the day drinking and eating and exchanging gifts before I’m due back here in, oh,”—she checked her watch—“fourteen hours.”

“You do strike me as a person who adores holidays.”

“I’ve been dreading it, to be honest,” Auria admitted. “The first one without my grandfather, without Tiernan.” But at least I won’t be alone, she thought. “Do you want to—no, forget it.”

Nissa raised a dark brow. “Do I want to what?”

“Spend the day with my family,” Auria muttered, a feeling of immense stupidity crashing through her. “My grandmother will be there, and my sisters. Nary a vock to be seen.”

Nissa erupted with laughter. “Nary a vock. Who talks like that?”

“It was primarily designed to make you laugh. Anyway, forget I said anything. You probably don’t want to spend a holiday you don’t care about with people you don’t like. But on the off chance you did…there are spare bedrooms. You could get some sleep, wake up to the smell of fresh brewed cønnafyr and my grandmother’s honey roast Sancsari lamb. Both of which are divine in their own right.”

Nissa eyed Auria suspiciously. “Why would you offer that?”

“We just toasted to reluctant allyship. Unlike some, I honor my oaths.”

Miraculously, Nissa seemed to be considering it. “Would your family not mind?”

It was Auria’s turn to laugh. “I’ve complained ceaselessly about you for nearly two years. I’m sure they’re intrigued enough to allow you into their home. Either that or they’ll believe I’m acting under duress.”

“Perhaps you are. Those pesky migraine auras, always causing you to hallucinate violence.”

“Saints, Karvas is such a—”

“You probably shouldn’t blaspheme on Sancsari,” Nissa pointed out.

“My hatred of him is deep enough to warrant it.” Auria jerked her head in the direction of her family home. Somewhere above them, dawndoves cooed. It would be a fine day, the winter sun buttery and clean. “Shall we?”