It was lucky for the princess that Yeneris had been hired to guard her life. Otherwise, Yeneris would almost certainly have murdered her by now.

Bad enough that she’d had to spend the majority of the past five days standing silently behind Sinoe for a mind-numbing succession of grooming rituals. The girl—Yeneris couldn’t bring herself to think of Sinoe as a woman, even though at twenty-five Sinoe was five years her senior—spent fully two-thirds of her waking hours being primped and plucked. There were warm baths scented with rosewater to smooth her milky skin. Salted foot soaks to keep her ridiculously tiny feet soft. Rinsings with oakleaf to darken the russet hair she’d inherited from her Scarthian mother to a more acceptable deep brown.

All of that, Yeneris endured. Just as she endured the hours in the solarium, watching the patterns of sunlight creep across the walls painted with irritatingly twee songbirds and butterflies, while Sinoe hummed and sighed over books of love poetry.

By the end of her first week, Yeneris had begun to cherish the hope that someone would try to assassinate the girl, if only to break up the wretched tedium.

She should have known better than to tempt the Fates.

Now, on her seventh night in the king’s service, Yeneris stood in Sinoe’s bedchamber, staring down at three pillows that had been hidden beneath the silken coverlet, artfully plumped into the shape of a peacefully sleeping princess. She muttered a curse, one of the particularly foul ones she’d picked up from the soldiers in the refugee camp.

It wasn’t a kidnapping. Yeneris could have held onto a few shreds of her pride if this was the work of Bassaran agents sent to steal away Hierax’s daughter, in some vain attempt to force the return of the kore’s reliquary. But Yeneris knew quite well it could be no such thing. She’d held out some hope that it was local criminals, seeking a fat ransom, until she saw the note.

A pretty little scroll of fine parchment, tucked between two of the pillows. Unfurling it, Yeneris found a single line of Helissoni script written in a surprisingly neat and careful hand.

I’ll be back before dawn. Don’t raise the alarm. Father will have your head.

Yeneris crumpled the paper in her fist. The girl was a blithering fool. A frivolous, self-interested ninny who seemed to think that a bodyguard was just another fancy trinket, like the amber earrings she’d lost five times in the past four days. On the most recent occasion, Yeneris had been forced to dig them out of a jar of Sinoe’s favorite fermented fish sauce. Her fingers still smelled like rotting anchovies.

By rights, Yeneris should raise the alarm. Inform the royal guard, set a hundred soldiers out into the night to track the wayward princess.

Yeneris smoothed the paper, considering the warning. People said that Sinoe was touched by the Fates. The Sibyl of Tears. Her father certainly claimed as much, even when she was only a young girl. It was Sinoe’s scryings that had sparked the war, after all.

Yeneris had seen no sign of such a gift thus far, but she couldn’t discount it. King Hierax had been absent from the palace for the past week chasing rumors of serpent cultists in the western foothills. But he would return eventually, and he wouldn’t be pleased if he learned that Yeneris had misplaced his daughter.

Her breath hissed out between her teeth. Fine. She would heed Sinoe’s words. But that didn’t mean she was going to sit here all night twiddling her thumbs. She had a job to do. Two jobs, actually. The one she’d been hired for. And the other one, the secret one, that no one must suspect.

Both missions required Sinoe, however. Which meant ensuring that whatever ridiculous escapade had lured the girl from the palace did not end in injury, death, or disgrace. Yeneris ground her teeth in frustration. “Fool,” she muttered, to herself as much as the princess.

A scornful chirrup sounded from the far corner of the lavish room, as if in agreement. Yeneris glanced toward the confection of intricate copper bars that was more miniature castle than cage. Within, the princess’s ailouron was a blotch of darkness with baleful golden eyes. The creature chittered, clattering her sharp beak against the bars and half-extending gold-feathered wings, even as her feline hindquarters coiled to scratch yet another silken pillow to shreds. The Scarthian ambassador had gifted the beast to the princess only a few days earlier, and she’d already caused significant damage to Sinoe’s bed linens and several ornamental plants, not to mention Yeneris’s nerves. Even Sinoe had been forced to consent to caging the beast after Tami had scratched one of her handmaids.

If only the princess herself were so easy to keep safe.

Yeneris tossed the note into the nearby brazier, waiting just long enough to be certain it had caught fully, that there would be no scraps to betray her. Then she stalked over to the window.

An ancient wisteria clambered up from below, veiling the wide casement with frothy greenery. Leaning out, Yeneris surveyed the twisting vine. She doubted it would hold her own weight, but Sinoe seemed to be built of thistledown and sunlight.

There. Yeneris plucked something from the leaves below. A single thread of long, silky reddish-brown hair. Swiftly, silently, she slung herself over the casement, her fingers finding the ridges between the stone. A few moments later, she thumped onto the soft soil of the gardens. She dared not risk a lamp, but the frail silver light of the full moon was enough to reveal the imprint of sandals in the earth. Steps leading away, toward the far wall. Toward the city.

Where was the girl headed? Fates, please not a love-tryst. The girl was utterly obsessed with romantic poetry. No doubt she would think it thrilling to sneak out to meet some paramour, no matter the scandal.

It was almost enough to send Yeneris back up the wall. She didn’t care one shred for Sinoe’s reputation. If the girl were disgraced, it would hurt Hierax.

Remember the mission, she told herself. Stick close to the sibyl. She is our path to recover the kore and hold the ancient vows.

Yeneris gritted her teeth, biting down on the promise like a hound with a bone. She carried it with her as she set off across the dark garden, following the trail of the wayward princess.

It was not a romantic tryst. But it was still staggeringly outrageous. When Yeneris finally found Sinoe, an hour later, it was deep in the lower city, in the middle of a crowd gathered to watch a troupe of capering acrobats performing along the steps to the old necropolis.

Yeneris had to give the girl some credit. She’d tried to conceal her identity. Or at least, that was presumably the intention of the ragged shawl wrapped around Sinoe’s head and shoulders. Unfortunately, it did little to disguise the fine gown underneath, six layers of linen so thin that you could read a scroll through each one. It was a small miracle no one had stolen the gold ring glittering on the girl’s right thumb, clearly visible as she flung her thin arms into the air, cheering with abandon. Fates, where had she learned to whistle like a common sailor?

Yeneris halted on the outskirts of the crowd. Her uniform was meant to fade into the background: a simple red-brown tunic, a darker woolen over-cloak to keep back the evening chill and to hide the hilts of the twin short swords at her waist. She had five other blades hidden about her person. Even the Master of Guards hadn’t found the smallest, when he searched her during her audition. Nor had she told him. It was one of her many secrets.

She had to be cautious. Not risk drawing any further attention than Sinoe—stupid, ridiculous girl—had already. If she thought she could get away with it, Yeneris might have knocked the princess over the head and carried her back to the palace. Instead, she was going to have to try to convince Sinoe to leave willingly. Try being the key word.

Yeneris drew a bracing breath, then began threading her way through the crowd, using her elbows as needed to clear the path.

Up on the morbid, makeshift stage, a very beautiful woman in a gauzy green tunic was now bending herself into shapes that made the crowd—and Yeneris—hiss with mixed fascination and horror.

Sinoe watched, her hands clasped together under her chin, lips parted. How could she still be such a child, after twenty-five years of life? Yeneris strained through her own memories. Had she ever looked at anything in the world with that sort of wide-eyed wonder? Maybe once, long ago. But Yeneris had been seven when the war began. The war that this foolish girl had started.

She shoved the thoughts away. It was the future she served. And she needed Sinoe to claim that future.

Yeneris spun a drunk woman gently to one side, slid past a man as he turned to shout something to a friend across the crowd, and suddenly there she was, beside Sinoe.

“Princess,” Yeneris muttered, bending to ensure only Sinoe heard the word. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Sinoe turned abruptly, her eyes going even larger. Not with chagrin or fear or guilt, or even imperious condescension, which would have made sense. No, the princess turned those enormous brown eyes up to Yeneris with a look of absolute delight that made Yeneris’s heart do something odd in her chest.

“Yeneris! You did follow me! Good. Look at her! Isn’t she amazing?” Sinoe gestured, the gold ring winking provocatively, toward the acrobat, who had currently contorted herself into a shape that reminded Yeneris of an Idrani bread knot.

It was amazing. But it was also beside the point. Sinoe did not belong here, and it was Yeneris’s job to get her back to the palace. Preferably without anyone realizing who she was.

“Princess,” she tried again. “Your father forbids you to leave the palace without a suitable escort.”

Sinoe waved a dismissive hand. “I have a suitable escort.”

Yeneris frowned, scanning nearby. She saw no sign of any royal guard. Only a churning crowd of cityfolk, cheering and gasping and tossing back cups of wine from the nearby taverna. “Where?”

Sinoe laughed. It wasn’t what Yeneris expected, not some insipid giggle, but a resonant chuckle that made something tickle in the back of her own throat. She swallowed. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s you,” Sinoe said. “You’re my escort.”

Yeneris ground her teeth, trying a different tactic. “Then as your escort, princess, I must beg you to return to the palace. It’s not safe here.”

Sinoe arched a brow. “You don’t think you can keep me safe?”

“Of course I can keep you safe,” Yeneris blurted out, only to see Sinoe’s eyes narrow in triumph. Fates, she’d walked right into that one.

“Good, then it’s settled,” said Sinoe. “So you might as well enjoy the show. I certainly am. Ooh, look, it’s my favorite part! The fire spinners!” She gave a wistful sigh. “When I was a little girl, I wanted to grow up to be a fire spinner.”

In spite of herself, Yeneris lifted her eyes to the front gate of the necropolis, where a pair of performers now stood. A young man and a young woman, both wearing so little that it made her cheeks flush.

“Just as well you’re not,” said Yeneris, stiffly. “Your father would never allow you to prance around like that, practically naked.”

“Don’t be a prude, Yen,” said Sinoe. “It’s for safety. Clothing might catch fire.”

“Oh, right, I’m sure that’s the only reason,” said Yeneris, though part of her brain was still caught on Yen. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the princess granting her a nickname. Was it a sign of companionship? Or did she think of Yeneris more like a pet hound?

“So you do have a sense of humor,” said Sinoe. “I thought so.”

The fire spinners began their performance, tossing torches between them in patterns that grew more and more complex. The streaks of brightness burned against Yeneris’s eyelids, like the symbols of some strange alphabet she could not fathom.

Coins clinked onto the steps. Sinoe gave a small, breathless oh and began patting herself, finally pulling free a small purse that appeared to have been hidden in her cleavage. Yeneris flushed even more deeply. Then gave a yelp, as Sinoe heaved back her arm.

Yeneris snatched the purse before the girl could toss it at the steps. “Are you trying to draw every thief in the city?”

“They deserve it,” Sinoe said, unrepentantly. “And what else do I have to spend it on? I already have everything I could ever dream of.”

For the first time, there was an unhappy twist hidden in her smile. But the bitterness fled in a flash, in a wink, in an arch of her russet brow. “Aren’t you enjoying the performance? You know, the Great Beetle crafted us these bodies as a gift. There’s no reason not to enjoy a particularly fine specimen in action.”

Yeneris tucked the purse into her own tunic for safekeeping. “Please, princess. Let me escort you back home.”

Sinoe tilted her head. “Have I embarrassed you?”

Yeneris made an inarticulate noise.

“I’m sorry,” said Sinoe. “I shouldn’t tease you. You probably think it’s not your place to tell me to shut up.”

“It’s not, my lady.”

“Would it help if I gave you permission?”

Yeneris desperately wished that the princess would stop talking. Or at least, stop talking to her. The tedium of lurking in the background while Sinoe had her fingernails trimmed had never been so appealing.

Sinoe gave a reflective hmm. “I suppose not. It’s just . . . sometimes I wish I could slip away somewhere that no one knows me. Be someone else altogether.”

The irony nearly made Yeneris choke on her own secrets. A part of her twanged with pity for the girl, but that twang was drowned out by a deeper fear, that Sinoe might guess the truth.

“So that’s why you came here?” Yeneris asked. “To play pretend?”

Sinoe’s lips tightened. She looked hurt. “You think I’m silly.”

Yeneris’s mouth went dry. If Sinoe dismissed her, all the years of planning were for nothing. All the bribes that her superiors had paid to ensure she got this position. The agonizing hours of training. The years spent removing every trace of her accent. All utterly wasted.

“Come here,” Sinoe said, abruptly tugging Yeneris along as she slid through the crowd, toward the base of the steps that led up to the makeshift stage. She didn’t stop until they were pressed against an alcove along the side. It held an ancient statue of one of the god-beasts, so worn by rain and wind that Yeneris wasn’t sure if it was meant to be the Sphinx or the Phoenix.

Halting beneath the towering, faded sculpture, Sinoe turned to face Yeneris, her expression tense. “You’ll need your swords.”

Yeneris put her hands on the hilts, warily. “Why?” She scanned the nearby crowds. What danger had she missed?

No one was paying them any heed. The fire spinners had reached the exciting climax of their performance, with the woman now perched on the shoulders of her partner, tossing the burning brands high, showing sparks across the dark night sky. Rapt with attention, the hundred-odd onlookers were cheering and whooping.

“Because of that,” said Sinoe, pointing toward the performers.

No, past them, to the dark gates of the necropolis itself.

Yeneris squinted into the shadows, barely making out the heavy wooden doors. As she stared at them, her heartbeat ratcheting, her skin prickling, the doors seemed to shift. To quiver.

Beneath the hum of the crowd, the whoops and hollers, Yeneris became aware of a slow beat. Thud. Thud. Thud. As if someone were banging at the doors from the other side.

Maybe it was a funerary priest who fell asleep on the job and got locked inside. Or a particularly incompetent grave robber. A pair of lovers with a fetish for the morbid? There were plenty of perfectly reasonable explanations for the thudding.

And her heart believed none of them. Yeneris moved to stand between Sinoe and the steps.

“What is it?” Yeneris demanded, glancing back. “Princess, what did you see?”

“Death.” Sinoe’s eyes were huge, and sorrowful.

A crack of splintering wood spun Yeneris back toward the gates, in time to see the doors finally give way, falling into splinters.

From the darkness, something slumped, staggering unsteadily. A human-shaped thing, with withered, skeletal arms and a body still trailing the gauzy tatters of a shroud. Pinpricks of bruised light burned in the wasted eye sockets, illuminating the leering skull as it paused on the threshold.

It gave a shattering, gargling cry, then attacked.