Cruel Beauty
Page 22
I blinked and looked back at the page. “Of his reign,” and I was looking at my hand.
I shook my head. I had learnt to read when I was five; a few days away from home could not have changed that. Clenching my teeth, I forced myself to read the whole page.
In the fifth of his reign tower Upon the most ancient but
Imperial to the When Romana-Graecia and other Children
If not for the Perhaps.
Try as I might, those were all the words I could read, and when I got to the bottom of the page, pain throbbed behind my eyes. Rubbing at my forehead, I dropped the book onto a nearby table—and instantly the pain was gone.
So the book was cursed. I pulled another book off the shelf. And another. But every book was the same. I could read no more than a phrase before my gaze slid away; if I tried to read for a page—and I could barely decipher more than one word in three-pain built behind my eyes until I had to give up.
My back prickled. I looked at the shelves, a few minutes ago so comforting. Now they felt like enemies. I wanted to edge away yet at the same time felt a mad impulse to stare the room down.
That was when I heard the bell. It wasn’t loud, but it had a clear, sweet tone that rang right though my head. I shivered and decided that since the library was useless to me, I might as well investigate.
The bell rang again and again as I followed its sound out of the library, down a hallway carpeted in red velvet, and up an ivory staircase. Then I pulled open a door and stepped into a drawing room papered in red and gold. The windows were hung with purple velvet curtains and flanked with potted aspidistras; in one corner of the room sat a marble statue of Leda entwined with the swan, while in another was a gold statue of the child Hercules strangling the serpents. Next to me, Ignifex sprawled in a plush, crimson chair with bulbous golden feet.
On the opposite side of the room stood a young man.
It took me a moment to realize that he was not a statue, not an illusion, but an actual flesh-and-blood mortal man: young, big-nosed, with ragged brown hair and stubble on his chin. He wore a patched gray coat and clutched in his hands a flat brown cap; when he glanced at me, I saw he had huge dark eyes like an ox. They looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember ever meeting him before.
When he met my eyes, the man twitched and swallowed convulsively, as if he recognized me. Or did he just fear everything in this house?
Ignifex gave me a lazy look. “Hello, wife. I’m making a bargain. Care to watch?”
The question, the whole situation, was so surreal that for a moment I was speechless. Then I realized, This is where Father bargained me away.
Ignifex’s mouth quirked up in a smile and this is how he smiled when he demanded to marry me.
My family had done me one favor: they had taught me to smile and keep silent when I wanted to scream. I walked forward with the ladylike gait Aunt Telomache had taught me—Don’t slump, child—and halted behind his chair, my hands resting on the back.
“Who is he?” I asked, trying to sound merely resentful, not calculating.
“His name is Damocles, and he’s come all the way from Corcya,” said Ignifex, his voice as light as if he were discussing the wallpaper. “And—”
“You’re Damocles,” I interrupted, finally recognizing him, and the knowledge was like an icy flood. “Damocles Siculus.”
Years ago, Menalion Siculus had been our coachman; Damocles was his son, and I had hazy but happy memories of him helping me sneak into the barn to pet the horses. Menalion died when I was eleven, and the family left the village shortly after.
His shoulders hunched a little, but he nodded. “Good morning, miss.”
“Actually,” said Ignifex, “she’s a married woman now, so you should address her as ‘ma’am.’”
“Why are you here?” I breathed.
“Oh, he’s come on a very important errand,” said Ignifex. “The girl he loves—”
“Philippa,” he muttered, twisting the cap.
“—is married, so he needs the husband dead.”
Damocles flushed but said nothing.
I had known that some people who bargained with the Gentle Lord were not duped innocents but came to him for evil reasons. I remembered thinking that they deserved almost all they got.
But I remembered the gawky, quiet boy who had slipped me a lump of sugar for my favorite mare. And I knew the bargains of the Gentle Lord never punished just one person.
I snorted and leaned over Ignifex’s shoulder. “So the great Lord of Bargains spends his time arranging weddings? That’s a bit less impressive than I expected.”
Then I clapped one hand over his mouth and wrapped the other under his jaw to hold it shut. I looked up and said rapidly, “Run. He’ll cheat you, whatever he’s promised, the price is more than you think, you’ll regret it all your life—”
Ignifex snorted through my fingers but didn’t move.
“Didn’t you hear the stories about my family? Father bargained and I’m still paying. Run while you can.”
Damocles shook his head. “I’m sorry your father was so selfish. I always was, I could see—” He swallowed again. “But the stories all say the Gentle Lord never lies, and he’s promised I’m the only one who’ll pay. I’ve loved Philippa since I was twelve. I’ll do this for her if it costs my soul.”
“You don’t understand, Philippa will pay—Father asked for children, and Mother died in childbed—”
“He must have made the wrong wish.” Damocles had turned his hat into a knot by now, but his dark eyes met mine resolutely. “He only wanted children for himself, maybe, so the wish betrayed him. But I just want Philippa to be happy, and I don’t care what I suffer. So I know I can make things right for her.”
If he thought murdering Philippa’s husband was the way to make her happy, he was so lost in his own selfishness that I’d never persuade him.
Behind him, the far door stood half-open to reveal the corner of a shabby bedroom. If I could force him back and lock the door—
I let go of Ignifex and lunged forward.
I managed two steps before Ignifex snapped his fingers. Instantly, shadow flowed around my wrists and Shade dragged me down to kneel on the floor. I wrenched against his bodiless grip, but it was implacable as ever.
Damocles had flinched back from my lunge, but now he stood rooted to the floor, the panicked whites of his eyes showing as he stared at Shade.
I looked up at him. “You see his power, he’s a demon, run—”
I shook my head. I had learnt to read when I was five; a few days away from home could not have changed that. Clenching my teeth, I forced myself to read the whole page.
In the fifth of his reign tower Upon the most ancient but
Imperial to the When Romana-Graecia and other Children
If not for the Perhaps.
Try as I might, those were all the words I could read, and when I got to the bottom of the page, pain throbbed behind my eyes. Rubbing at my forehead, I dropped the book onto a nearby table—and instantly the pain was gone.
So the book was cursed. I pulled another book off the shelf. And another. But every book was the same. I could read no more than a phrase before my gaze slid away; if I tried to read for a page—and I could barely decipher more than one word in three-pain built behind my eyes until I had to give up.
My back prickled. I looked at the shelves, a few minutes ago so comforting. Now they felt like enemies. I wanted to edge away yet at the same time felt a mad impulse to stare the room down.
That was when I heard the bell. It wasn’t loud, but it had a clear, sweet tone that rang right though my head. I shivered and decided that since the library was useless to me, I might as well investigate.
The bell rang again and again as I followed its sound out of the library, down a hallway carpeted in red velvet, and up an ivory staircase. Then I pulled open a door and stepped into a drawing room papered in red and gold. The windows were hung with purple velvet curtains and flanked with potted aspidistras; in one corner of the room sat a marble statue of Leda entwined with the swan, while in another was a gold statue of the child Hercules strangling the serpents. Next to me, Ignifex sprawled in a plush, crimson chair with bulbous golden feet.
On the opposite side of the room stood a young man.
It took me a moment to realize that he was not a statue, not an illusion, but an actual flesh-and-blood mortal man: young, big-nosed, with ragged brown hair and stubble on his chin. He wore a patched gray coat and clutched in his hands a flat brown cap; when he glanced at me, I saw he had huge dark eyes like an ox. They looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember ever meeting him before.
When he met my eyes, the man twitched and swallowed convulsively, as if he recognized me. Or did he just fear everything in this house?
Ignifex gave me a lazy look. “Hello, wife. I’m making a bargain. Care to watch?”
The question, the whole situation, was so surreal that for a moment I was speechless. Then I realized, This is where Father bargained me away.
Ignifex’s mouth quirked up in a smile and this is how he smiled when he demanded to marry me.
My family had done me one favor: they had taught me to smile and keep silent when I wanted to scream. I walked forward with the ladylike gait Aunt Telomache had taught me—Don’t slump, child—and halted behind his chair, my hands resting on the back.
“Who is he?” I asked, trying to sound merely resentful, not calculating.
“His name is Damocles, and he’s come all the way from Corcya,” said Ignifex, his voice as light as if he were discussing the wallpaper. “And—”
“You’re Damocles,” I interrupted, finally recognizing him, and the knowledge was like an icy flood. “Damocles Siculus.”
Years ago, Menalion Siculus had been our coachman; Damocles was his son, and I had hazy but happy memories of him helping me sneak into the barn to pet the horses. Menalion died when I was eleven, and the family left the village shortly after.
His shoulders hunched a little, but he nodded. “Good morning, miss.”
“Actually,” said Ignifex, “she’s a married woman now, so you should address her as ‘ma’am.’”
“Why are you here?” I breathed.
“Oh, he’s come on a very important errand,” said Ignifex. “The girl he loves—”
“Philippa,” he muttered, twisting the cap.
“—is married, so he needs the husband dead.”
Damocles flushed but said nothing.
I had known that some people who bargained with the Gentle Lord were not duped innocents but came to him for evil reasons. I remembered thinking that they deserved almost all they got.
But I remembered the gawky, quiet boy who had slipped me a lump of sugar for my favorite mare. And I knew the bargains of the Gentle Lord never punished just one person.
I snorted and leaned over Ignifex’s shoulder. “So the great Lord of Bargains spends his time arranging weddings? That’s a bit less impressive than I expected.”
Then I clapped one hand over his mouth and wrapped the other under his jaw to hold it shut. I looked up and said rapidly, “Run. He’ll cheat you, whatever he’s promised, the price is more than you think, you’ll regret it all your life—”
Ignifex snorted through my fingers but didn’t move.
“Didn’t you hear the stories about my family? Father bargained and I’m still paying. Run while you can.”
Damocles shook his head. “I’m sorry your father was so selfish. I always was, I could see—” He swallowed again. “But the stories all say the Gentle Lord never lies, and he’s promised I’m the only one who’ll pay. I’ve loved Philippa since I was twelve. I’ll do this for her if it costs my soul.”
“You don’t understand, Philippa will pay—Father asked for children, and Mother died in childbed—”
“He must have made the wrong wish.” Damocles had turned his hat into a knot by now, but his dark eyes met mine resolutely. “He only wanted children for himself, maybe, so the wish betrayed him. But I just want Philippa to be happy, and I don’t care what I suffer. So I know I can make things right for her.”
If he thought murdering Philippa’s husband was the way to make her happy, he was so lost in his own selfishness that I’d never persuade him.
Behind him, the far door stood half-open to reveal the corner of a shabby bedroom. If I could force him back and lock the door—
I let go of Ignifex and lunged forward.
I managed two steps before Ignifex snapped his fingers. Instantly, shadow flowed around my wrists and Shade dragged me down to kneel on the floor. I wrenched against his bodiless grip, but it was implacable as ever.
Damocles had flinched back from my lunge, but now he stood rooted to the floor, the panicked whites of his eyes showing as he stared at Shade.
I looked up at him. “You see his power, he’s a demon, run—”
