Daughter of Dusk (5 page)

The entire scene was intimidating. Kyra walked the perimeter of the courtyard, scanning the crowd for people she knew. She saw Malikel, his black, curly hair and beard freshly cropped against
his dark brown skin, wearing a maroon tunic and breeches instead of his usual official’s robes. The Defense Minister stood talking to a tall, stout man with a well-curled auburn mustache.
Close by, Forge’s Head Councilman, Willem, held court amongst a whole circle of nobles.

Kyra finally caught sight of Tristam next to one of the carriages, looking very handsome in a midnight-blue tunic and black breeches. He was talking to an older gentleman from Edlan, and his
eyes swept over Kyra without seeing her at first. But a moment later, he snapped his gaze abruptly back toward her, a startled expression on his face. She waved a few fingers in greeting. To her
surprise, Tristam immediately bowed to his conversational companion and took his leave. Kyra’s arms felt awkward at her sides as he crossed the courtyard toward her. Her fingers itched to
start fidgeting with her dress, but she forced them still.

When he came close, Tristam reached his arm toward her, palm up. After a moment’s confusion, Kyra gave him her hand, and he bowed low, pressing his lips to her skin. It was hard not to
shiver at the tingle that went up her arm. Tristam straightened, and his eyes swept over her. “You look beautiful.”

She smiled, a pleasant warmth spreading through her chest. Until she’d seen Tristam’s reaction, she hadn’t admitted to herself that she’d been hoping for one. “You
look very nice yourself,” she said. “Care to introduce me to all this court fanciness?”

“My pleasure.” He offered her an arm. “The crowd is moving to the ballroom. Shall we follow?”

Uniformed servants directed the guests through a massive set of double doors into the Palace’s main ballroom. The sparkle of countless candle flames greeted them as they drifted in with
the crowd, and Kyra couldn’t help but gasp at the sight. The walls and ceilings were lined with mirrors, and they caught the light from crystal chandeliers overhead. The glass also reflected
swirls of color from the hall—silk finery, feathered headdresses, rouged lips, and kohl-rimmed eyes. A group of ten musicians played at one end of the dance floor, while tables at the other
end of the hall bore mouthwatering displays of delicacies, desserts, and wine. Servants weaved through the crowd, carrying platters that left tantalizing scent trails behind them. Uniformed guards
in both Forge red, Edlan blue, and Parnan silver stood at attention along the walls, their stillness even more apparent against the constantly shuffling crowd.

“There’s more soldiers here than I expected,” said Kyra.

Tristam chuckled. “Well, yes. That’s the uncomfortable truth about the three cities. We’re not at war, but we’re never completely at peace either. Don’t let the
pomp and ceremony fool you. We come together to ‘enhance cooperation between our three peoples.’ We’ll smile at each other, even help one another as a gesture of goodwill. But
behind the honeyed words, we’re still trying to get an advantage on the others.”

Kyra thought she could sense some of this tension in the careful smiles and polite conversations around her. “What do I need to know about Edlan and Parna?”

Tristam led her to a table, where a bowing servant handed him two glasses of sparkling wine. “Think of our three city-states as three brothers,” he said, passing her a glass and
lowering his voice. “Forge is the eldest, with a respectable inheritance of rich farmland and plentiful forests. We have the most people, the most fealty from families who live outside the
city proper, and access to the best trade routes. Edlan is the second brother, living at the base of the Aerins in a harsher clime. They’re a hearty city and a tough people, but they’re
always feeling second-best.”

Kyra wondered if the Edlanese folk would agree with that assessment. “And Parna?”

“Parna is the young upstart who, while the two elder siblings were squabbling, stumbled upon a fortune of his own.”

Kyra sipped her wine, savoring the feel of the bubbles against her tongue. “Your comparisons are getting unwieldy, Tristam.”

His eyes twinkled. “Fair enough. Parna lies at the fork of the Vera River. She’s the smallest and youngest city-state out of the three, but she’s also extremely fortunate in
her location and resources. The Parnans discovered some lucrative mines about two hundred years ago that have served them well. The river also provides an excellent defense for them, so the Parnan
government spends its money on arts and learning instead of large armies. I visited their Palace once. They have poets and bards in residence, philosophers holding court every evening. It’s
really quite impressive.”

“Are the Councils of Edlan and Parna similar to ours?”

“Edlan doesn’t have a Council, actually. It’s ruled by Duke Symon. He has his advisers, but they have very little power to overrule his decisions, whereas every decision made
in Forge has to pass a majority vote. Parna has two Councils: one like ours and another that’s chosen by the people every—”

Tristam stopped short as someone clapped him on the shoulder. Kyra turned to see a young nobleman even taller than Tristam, looking them over with a broad smile on his face.

“Enjoying the festivities?” said the newcomer.

Tristam leaned back, eyes wide, before his face also split into a grin. “Henril! I didn’t know you would be here.” He clasped Henril’s arm with his free hand and turned
to Kyra. “This is my eldest brother. I’ve not seen him in two years. Henril, this is Kyra, also under Malikel’s command.”

Brother.
Henril had wider shoulders than Tristam, a heavier frame, and lighter hair, but the two men shared the same long face and tall nose. Henril took Kyra’s hand and bowed low
over it. “A pleasure to meet you, Kyra. Word of your deeds reaches even into the countryside.”

Kyra wondered briefly just exactly what those deeds entailed. “Are you the brother who stole sweets from the kitchen and blamed it on Tristam?”

Henril laughed. “I’m wounded you would think such a thing, Lady Kyra. I would never betray my sibling for something as trivial as sweets.”

“It’s true,” said Tristam. “He preferred to steal meat pies.”

The two brothers were still grinning at each other, clearly looking forward to catching up. Henril looked friendly enough, but Kyra didn’t want to be the one holding back the conversation.
“I’m sure you have much to talk about,” she said. “I should go check if Malikel needs me for anything.”

“Are you sure?” asked Tristam, looking hesitantly between her and Henril.

She gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “If I can survive in a forest of demon cats, I’ll survive some time by myself in the ballroom. I’ll be back soon.”

Tristam gazed after Kyra’s retreating form. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at her tonight, and he wondered if she’d noticed him gawking earlier. Compared
with the fashionable noblewomen around them, Kyra was underadorned. Her dress had no embroidery, and she wore no jewelry or face paint. But she had a way of bringing elegance to anything she wore.
The silk of her dress skimmed her subtle curves and swirled in response to her movements in a way that was simply captivating.

But Henril was here, and Tristam had already let the conversation lag too long. He turned back to his brother. “She’s not usually quite so scared. Diplomatic balls aren’t
exactly her element.”

Henril crossed muscled arms over his broad chest. “I can imagine, if all I’ve heard is true. Did she really try to assassinate Malikel?”

“That she did. I found her on the ledge outside his bedroom wall. She almost got away.” He saw her as she’d been that night, how well she’d faded into the shadows, how
impossibly fleet she’d been once she started running.

“I hear you tackled her. Kind of an unfair advantage, I’d say,” Henril said.

Tristam laughed at that one. “Don’t judge her by her size. She’s better with a dagger than I, and I was fighting for my life. I’m glad she’s on our side
now.”

“Is there anything more to that?” asked Henril, his expression carefully neutral. “Other than being on the same side?”

“No. We’re comrades-in-arms. Nothing more.” Tristam wasn’t sure why he’d told that lie, and he despised himself as soon as it came out. Tonight, of all nights, it
was clear to him that they were not simply “comrades-in-arms.” But he found that he couldn’t take the words back either. To answer any other way would have raised questions that
Tristam didn’t yet know how to answer. Especially since nothing between him and Kyra had actually been said.

Henril tilted his head in a gesture that didn’t convey much confidence at all in Tristam’s words, and Tristam decided to change the subject. “How have things been at
home?”

At this, Henril’s expression darkened and he hunched his shoulders as if huddling against a cold wind. “Not good. Demon Rider attacks have been increasing these past few weeks.
Father and I have been riding the grounds every day, and we sent for Lorne to return as well.”

Lorne was Tristam’s second brother. “That bad?” said Tristam.

Henril lifted the sleeve of his tunic to reveal a bandage around his forearm. “Got that from a demon cat two weeks ago.”

Tristam’s chest tightened at the sight. Demon Rider attacks on Forge itself had all but stopped since James’s capture, but they still happened in the countryside. He’d known
this, but it was a very different thing to see his wounded brother in front of him. And here he’d been, enjoying the respite. “It’s strange the attacks have increased so much in
the countryside, even taking into account that the barbarians avoid the city proper. If things are this bad, perhaps I should return home too.”

His brother shook his head. “No, it’s good to have someone within earshot of the Council. Father, Lorne, and I can handle the manor for now. Just keep an eye out for messages from
us. We might need your help on short notice.”

Kyra had no sooner stepped into Malikel’s field of vision than the Defense Minister waved her over. “Kyra, we’ve need of you.”

She hesitated. Though she’d told Tristam she was going to see Malikel, Kyra realized now that she hadn’t actually meant to follow through. Well, Malikel had seen her. She steeled
herself and approached.

Kyra didn’t recognize the majority of officials standing around Malikel, and the one face she did recognize, Kyra was not at all happy to see. Head Councilman Willem had no special love
for Kyra, and he made no secret of it.

“You already know Councilman Willem,” said Malikel. “This is Duke Symon of Edlan and Lord Alvred, the Edlan defense minister.”

Perhaps this was the day for noticing family resemblances, because Kyra was struck by the similarity between Duke Symon’s and Willem’s features—something about the thin line of
their lips and the way their well-trimmed eyebrows angled in on their foreheads. Kyra seemed to remember hearing that the two were distant cousins and that this relation was why Forge had been able
to maintain peace with Edlan in recent years. She shifted her gaze to Lord Alvred, whom she now recognized as the large man she’d seen with Malikel earlier. He towered over her, and Kyra
imagined that his hefty limbs might have been solid with muscle in his youth. Even now that he had a softer physique, Kyra got the impression he could crush her with very little effort. This was
the man who would be Malikel’s archenemy should war arise. Kyra wondered how they got along in times of peace.

“Lord Alvred had some questions about the Demon Riders,” said Malikel. “They’ve had a few attacks in Edlan as well.”

Alvred leaned over Kyra, absently smoothing down his mustache. “Is it true that they and their cats are the same type of creature?”

That was an easy enough question. “It’s true,” she said. “I saw them change shape many times.”

He raised his eyebrows in keen interest. “And what have you found to be the best way of fighting them?”

“Spears, sir.” Military strategy was Tristam’s domain, but Kyra had been around long enough to answer at the simplest level. “That and telling folk to stay out of their
way. They’re usually going for livestock, though they’re ruthless if you attack them.”