The Shattered City (20 page)

Except Velody. For some reason, they all trusted Velody, even the ones who didn't like her. She was on their side, and that meant that it wasn't only the enemy's rules that were changing. The sky had always been something to be battled and feared, to protect yourself from. Something to fight. But Ashiol had never seen the sky as an intelligent foe. The thought that there might
be a mind behind the attacks, some kind of guiding force enjoying the damage it did to them … it sickened him.

Ashiol sat on the edge of the bed. ‘You. Wake up. Now.' Isangell was sluggish to respond, her eyelids fluttering open, and that made him angry all over again. ‘What are you?' he demanded.

She smiled a sleepy, un-Isangell smile. (Thank fuck at least that the wench who had tried to seduce him was not actually his cousin — was it too much to hope she would remember none of this?) ‘We are the worst thing you can imagine, son of Ducs. You are the last of your kind, because we shall make it so.'

‘Don't listen to it,' Kelpie said. ‘It's trying to poison your mind. It's been working on the three of us all day, trying to turn us against each other.' She managed a wavery smile. ‘Luckily we didn't like each other that much to begin with.'

Ashiol glared down at the creature inside his cousin. ‘Why her? Why this body?'

‘Only she had the power,' said the thing inside Isangell.

‘She has no power of the nox,' he raged. ‘She has nothing you want!'

The not-Isangell just giggled, and stretched her body.

‘I'm going to need your blood,' Ashiol told Kelpie.

Kelpie rolled up her sleeve without a word, without even a pause. That was loyalty.

The Isangell-thing twisted, and pulled against her bonds. ‘Do what you like to the meat,' it howled. ‘We are dust and you cannot deny us. We will swallow you!'

Kelpie let blood trickle down her wrist, into her palm, then knelt over the Duchessa in businesslike fashion.
‘We're tough,' she said grimly, and pressed her bloody hand over Isangell's nose and mouth. ‘We come with gristle.'

Ashiol had to look away. He was usually immune to the casual horrors of the Creature Court. But the sight of Kelpie forcing her own blood into Isangell's mouth was more than he could stand.

There was a commotion in the other room. ‘I don't know who you trollops think you are, but I demand to see my daughter
right now
.'

‘Holy fuck,' said Ashiol. ‘Aunt Eglantine.'

Now they were in trouble.

V
elody had napped in her chair for an hour or two, but not enough to feel rested. There had been a lot of that lately. The daylight adventures were harder on her than the nox.

She awoke in darkness, and slowly she realised that Crane was there, seated on the other side of the workroom. ‘I don't think I can do this any more,' she said quietly.

‘Of course you can,' he said, as if he never had any doubt. ‘You're doing so well.'

‘The Creature Court has been haemorrhaging people since I started this,' she said. ‘Don't any of you blame me for that? I'm supposed to be your leader.' The very idea was laughable.

‘The Lords barely even used to speak to each other,' said Crane. ‘I think they were afraid to. Poet would never have begged for Priest's life when Garnet or Ortheus were in charge. He wouldn't have thought of it.
He just would have mourned, afterwards. They would never have hesitated to believe Warlord was responsible. More of them would be dead, without the changes you have made.'

Velody wanted to argue with him, to point out the mistakes she had made, but then she remembered Livilla and Warlord using their blood to save Ashiol. ‘You think I make a difference?' she asked finally. ‘Because they're not afraid of me?'

‘I think you're the only chance we have to act like human beings instead of pawns and performers,' said Crane. ‘If you can't see the difference you've made, you have to trust that we can see it.'

‘I don't think I trust anyone,' said Velody. Least of all herself, after what her hands had wrought. ‘Not any more. There's no ground under my feet.'

‘Trust me,' said Crane. Oh, so certain. So young. What would she do without him? ‘We are doing better than we were. You are our salvation, Velody. We couldn't survived another reign of Garnet. Keep going.'

She reached out wordlessly and took his hand, squeezing it for a moment. The moment passed, and perhaps he was expecting something more of her, but she had little to give.

Besides, she was needed elsewhere.

Velody left Crane downstairs and went slowly up to her bedroom.

Shivery darts crossed the sky, flickers of light and colour. Sure signs that something was waking up out there. She didn't know what kind of battle it would be — a light cloud skirmish or something far more epic and bloody.

‘I don't care,' she told the mice that lined themselves up
on her mantel, gazing at her. ‘Really, I don't. I need sleep more than I need to prove myself in battle all over again.'

But she climbed out the window anyway.

 

Ashiol emerged from Isangell's bedroom, his hands still damp from a frantic visit to Isangell's washstand to remove the evidence of blood. ‘Aunt Eglantine, how are you?'

Isangell's mother was almost purple with rage. ‘Ashiol, what game is this? Get rid of these drabs and bring me my daughter.'

Delphine mouthed the word ‘drabs' as if she couldn't quite believe it. Livilla was amused, which was a good thing considering she was quite capable of killing Eglantine with a hatpin if the urge took her.

‘She is sleeping,' said Ashiol. It was true, he hoped; the last thing he had done before slipping out here was to push a large vial of nettlebane at Kelpie and suggest she pour half of it down the Duchessa's throat. ‘She didn't want to admit it to you, Aunt Eglantine, but she has been unwell.'

‘So Armand informed me,' Eglantine said in a chilly voice.

(
That rat
, Delphine hissed to Livilla.)

‘She will be perfectly well,' Ashiol said defensively. ‘The dottore said she only needed a few days' rest …'

‘Ah, the mythical dottore,' Eglantine said between her teeth. ‘Isangell has been attended by the same dottore for years, and he knows nothing of this new condition. Exactly who do you think you are, to take these matters upon yourself, boy?'

Ashiol could hear every epithet she left unsaid. He had heard them from her lips before. He knew what
they saw — all of them, the whole family — when they looked at him. They saw the feckless black goat of the Ducal family, who had been exiled once for his chaotic and unreliable behaviour. Tidied away to the country, where he could do no more damage to the family reputation with his wicked ways.

‘I am the Duchessa's chosen consort,' he declared, infusing his words with animor. It would have little effect on his aunt, who was the most daylight creature he had ever known, but it gave him extra strength and resonance.

Aunt Eglantine went redder in an instant. ‘You are
not
,' she bellowed. ‘You dare presume …'

‘I am not the one who presumes,' Ashiol thundered. ‘You cling to the hem of your daughter's skirts in the hopes that we — the rightful Ducal family of Aufleur — do not remember that you have no power here. You married a man who was never Duc, and his family have allowed you to remain here entirely at Isangell's charity. You may have your spies and toadies here in this Palazzo, but you are not and never shall be Xandelian.' A speech along those lines had been bubbling under his skin for some time now.

There was no explosion. Eglantine merely twisted her mouth as if she had sipped a tisane with too much lemon. ‘You really are Augusta's son, aren't you?' she said.

‘Never doubt it,' Ashiol grated.

‘I trust my daughter will make room for a discussion with me on the first day she is able to resume her public duties.'

‘I am assured so,' said Ashiol. Was that it? Was she actually going to let him get away with this?

‘Well, then. I shall take my leave of you, Seigneur
Ducomte.'
And may you choke on it
, her icy tone suggested, though she was giving him his way.

‘Phew,' said Delphine, when Aunt Eglantine had finally sailed out of the parlour. ‘That went better than expected.'

‘You're telling me,' said Ashiol. He didn't know whether to be relieved or suspicious that she had backed down so quickly. What would her next move be?

‘You are rather glorious when you shout, my cat,' said Livilla with a slow smile.

‘Nice to know.'

Kelpie came out of the bedroom. ‘Dragon gone, is she?'

‘Oh, she'll be back. But that's a mess I'll leave for the Duchessa to sort out.' Possibly announcing he was to be Isangell's official consort was something of a political disaster. But with luck Eglantine would be so horrified by the whole concept that Isangell politely letting her know it wasn't true would be enough to keep her quiet.

‘You're just the best cousin ever,' said Kelpie. ‘She's breathing well, if you're interested. The noxcrawl isn't visible anywhere on her skin. Which is just as well, considering.'

Ashiol nodded. He had been aware of it for some time, but Eglantine had been in the way. The sky was calling them.

‘Considering what?' said Delphine, alarmed. ‘Does it never stop with you people?'

‘Not while the sky is black,' Livilla said. ‘I think I'll sit this one out, Ash.'

‘I don't think you will,' he said in a low growl. ‘You're the only Lord who is entirely in one piece right now, and you're coming with me if I have to drag you by your hair.'

Livilla shivered deliciously. ‘Well, if you put it that way, sweetling.'

 

By the time Ashiol and Livilla made it into the sky, the battle was underway.

It felt different now that Ashiol had heard the voice of the creatures — the intelligence, damn it — beyond the frostiels and screelight. The skywar wasn't a natural occurrence like thunder and lightning, it was real and malevolent. Every blow or strike or ripple of light felt personal.

He had known this, or part of him had. The Court had always told stories of it. But he hadn't entirely believed. Now they had proof that devils inhabited the sky. Real devils, not monsters of myth. They were coming, and they had nothing less than the destruction of Aufleur in mind.

A silvery bolt of iceblaze lit up the sky near them. Ashiol chased it, pouring animor into the centre until it exploded into dust.

Velody was there, streaking brilliantly across the sky, calling commands to each of the Lords, directing them to one sector or another.

‘Keep an eye on Livilla,' Poet yelled as he swooped over Ashiol's head. ‘She seems to have let the Octavian catch fire!'

Ashiol turned, surveying the city below. Fucking hells. Flamebolts had hold of the librarion and were spreading to other buildings on the Octavian hill. Poet was right — Livilla was the only Lord in that part of the sky.

He soared to her, body glowing with animor. ‘Livilla, what the frig?'

She was dressed like a matrona again, in the same
modest gown she had worn to take tea with the Duchessa, a rope of pearls hanging to her knees. What kind of maniac danced the sky in beads? ‘Ashiol darling, you can't expect me to catch flamebolts. I have my hair to think of.'

He growled under his breath. ‘Put the fire out. Move it!'

‘Who died and made you Power and Majesty?'

Ashiol hesitated to go chimaera for a moment, unsure what he might find when he reached for that shape. Then, realising his weakness, he threw himself into his chimaera form, black and powerful and edged with claws. And yes, wings, back where they belonged, barely even hurting as he swiped out at Livilla.

‘Such a bully,' she said, eyes flashing with animor, but she turned and arced her body over the river where it curved behind the Balisquine. She dipped down then soared up again like a swan, and a trail of river water followed her in a fan-like tail. Livilla dropped down over the Octavian and the water exploded over the flames, drenching the buildings in a haze of light and animor.

Livilla had always been an artist in the sky, when she wanted to be.

‘Good enough, my King?' she asked archly when the flames were dampened.

Ash returned to Lord form and kissed her once on the cheek. ‘Where did you get that stupidly respectable dress?'

‘Stole it from a nun.'

‘That explains a lot, really.'

Livilla raised her eyebrows. ‘Go see to your own patch of sky, Ash. I can handle this.'

‘I know you can,' he said. ‘You're damned good at this, Liv.'

Her whole body glowed at the compliment. Acting like Velody continued to have pleasing benefits. Ashiol wasn't sure if it was enough to make him do it more often, but it was interesting.

‘About time someone noticed,' said Livilla smugly.

 

One minute Delphine was pretending to be the Duchessa's private secretary, juggling homicidal sentinels and Lords, and the next she was standing on the grass of the fancy Palazzo grounds as Ashiol and Livilla turned themselves into cats and wolves, hurling themselves into the sky.

Kelpie had drawn her skysilver sword. Delphine could feel the hum of it, the glow that made it different to a sword made of ordinary metal. She liked to pretend that she couldn't sense such things. ‘Are you coming?' Kelpie asked.

Delphine shook her head once, quickly. ‘I'm not a sentinel.'

‘If you say so,' said Kelpie with an odd sort of smile. She ran off into the darkness.

The sky was not just dark. It was pink and green and scarlet and there were shapes up there, dancing silhouettes that could kill or maim.

Delphine stared at her feet as she walked down the Balisquine. On the Avenue d'Argentin, she hailed a noxcab and flirted the cabriolet driver into giving her a ride all the way to the Vittorine, even though he didn't usually go that far.

There was a lamp lit in the kitchen. She never knew who to expect in the house these days — and wasn't remotely surprised to see that it was the puppy sentinel, the boy who looked at Velody as if she was all the saints and angels rolled in together.

‘Sorry,' Crane said. ‘Did I startle you?'

‘It would take more than you to do that after the nox I've had,' she said, and pretended she was Rhian by putting the kettle on. ‘Shouldn't you be sentinelling it up? I hear there's a party in the sky.'

‘Velody didn't want me,' he said, staring at the table. ‘She went out the window rather than take me with her.'

Oh, the darling baby. Delphine had been heartbroken at least three times when she was his age. She got a little bit tougher every time. ‘Isn't that what they're always like, the Kings?' she said, finding cups. ‘So busy saving the city, they don't have time to check whether they have bruised anyone else along the way.'

His chin went up at that, and he looked offended. ‘I'm not feeling sorry for myself or anything.'

‘Pardon me for breathing,' she said. It was going to be hard to get through this conversation without laughing at him. ‘I'm still learning about this sentinel thing.'

‘Macready thinks you'll be good at it,' said the puppy.

Delphine turned away, because she didn't want anyone to know that it felt good to be told that. Stupid, so stupid. ‘Macready needs his head read. And boiled. And removed.'

The kettle sang, finally, and she scooped spoonfuls of dried mint and lemon into the cups, poured water over them. The puppy accepted the cup with thanks, but didn't drink.

‘You can tell me something,' she said.

‘If I can.'

‘Velody said you told her about Tierce. The city that disappeared.'

Obviously that wasn't what he had expected her to ask about. ‘Yes, that's right.'

‘Your family lived there?'

‘My brothers. I visited once, at Saturnalia. Years before it was swallowed by the sky.'

‘Did it —' And she wished the tea was cool enough to drink, so that she could hide her face. No such luck. The puppy was looking at her as if he could see inside her skin. No wonder Velody had jumped out the window. ‘Did it have yellow walls?'

She hadn't told Macready, or Velody, or Rhian. But Delphine had been dreaming of a city with yellow walls, of voices and hands and familiar things. Every time she woke up, she felt as if her heart had broken.