swarmed all over me.’
Piro nodded. ‘Kresatrices...’ She supposed they were a mix between a cockatrice and a kresillum. A full grown male cockatrice stood taller than a man, with razor sharp leg spurs, wings and a serpent’s tail. It could spit deadly poison, accurate up to two body-lengths. The feathers of a cockatrice were fine as fur and highly prized, but the beasts were not something you’d keep as a pet. The kresillum, on the other hand, was the size of a cat. Its hard shell protected it from predators, and if that failed it would sing so sweetly that the predator forgot everything. They weren’t poisonous, but if someone had been cross-breeding the two, who knew what the result would be?
The spice merchant’s agent was right about one thing—the creatures had been defending themselves. If she left it up to the captain, he’d catch them and kill them. If she left it up to the merchant, he’d sell them. She would have to catch the frightened hatchlings herself.
F LORIN AND V ARUSKA left the betrothal celebrations early. Florin felt weary as she helped the false-Piro strip off her finery. So much had happened since they’d both entered the castle this morning.
‘This is your chance,’ Varuska whispered. She stood by the fire, wearing one of Piro’s nightgowns. Stray wisps of her long hair rose in the hot drafts coming from the flames. ‘Go find my sister now.’
‘As soon as you’re in bed.’
Varuska climbed in and pulled up the covers. ‘Give her my bundle. Anatoley can wear my things.’
Florin nodded.
‘Tell her I’m safe. Don’t tell her about...’ Varuska gestured to the chamber, her pretty face pinched with fear. ‘Granna mustn’t worry.’
Florin nodded.
Here she was, running messages for Piro’s imposter when she should have been assassinating Cobalt. But it was thanks to Varuska’s masquerade that Florin knew Cobalt’s manservant was really an Ostronite assassin. She would have to take Amil into consideration when she killed Cobalt.
Whatever happened, she was not going to put Varuska’s life in danger.
Florin closed the door to Piro’s chamber and backed into a man-at-arms. Fool, she should have anticipated Cobalt would set a guard.
‘Here, where are you off to?’ He steadied her. A gleam lit up his eyes. ‘Breeches, eh?’
Florin sent him a cold look. ‘I need my bundle.’
Just then two men came down the corridor carrying a blanket-wrapped body between them. In a castle this size, with its many servants and visitors, someone was always sick and dying.
After they’d gone, the man-at-arms was no longer interested in her breeches. ‘Fetch your bundle. An’ be quick about it.’
Florin nodded, heading off down the passage. With every step she took, a feeling of foreboding grew. From Byren’s description, Cobalt was not the benevolent kind. Now that she thought about it, Old Mirona and Anatoley would be better off leaving tonight before Cobalt could reconsider and give Amil different orders.
As Florin rounded the bend, she nearly bumped into a candle-trimmer. They both jumped. He was half her size and nervous as a mouse. She would have apologised, but he hurried away with his step-stool and candle snuffer.
Florin entered the female servants’ chamber to find it in darkness. Only a glimmer of light came through the high window. She collected Varuska’s bundle and felt her way towards the old woman’s pallet. ‘Mirona?’
No answer.
Of course, it had been her body the men had been carrying. Poor old thing...
Florin’s boot crunched on something underfoot. She tucked the bundle under her arm, knelt and felt for the object. Her fingers found the shattered goddess.
Old Mirona had not died of natural causes.
Florin had to find Anatoley before Cobalt’s thugs did. Sick with horror, she fled.
P IRO TURNED TO the cabin boy. ‘Show me where you were keeping the kresatrices.’
‘We had them in the galley.’ Miron scurried along the hall
Piro nodded. ‘Kresatrices...’ She supposed they were a mix between a cockatrice and a kresillum. A full grown male cockatrice stood taller than a man, with razor sharp leg spurs, wings and a serpent’s tail. It could spit deadly poison, accurate up to two body-lengths. The feathers of a cockatrice were fine as fur and highly prized, but the beasts were not something you’d keep as a pet. The kresillum, on the other hand, was the size of a cat. Its hard shell protected it from predators, and if that failed it would sing so sweetly that the predator forgot everything. They weren’t poisonous, but if someone had been cross-breeding the two, who knew what the result would be?
The spice merchant’s agent was right about one thing—the creatures had been defending themselves. If she left it up to the captain, he’d catch them and kill them. If she left it up to the merchant, he’d sell them. She would have to catch the frightened hatchlings herself.
F LORIN AND V ARUSKA left the betrothal celebrations early. Florin felt weary as she helped the false-Piro strip off her finery. So much had happened since they’d both entered the castle this morning.
‘This is your chance,’ Varuska whispered. She stood by the fire, wearing one of Piro’s nightgowns. Stray wisps of her long hair rose in the hot drafts coming from the flames. ‘Go find my sister now.’
‘As soon as you’re in bed.’
Varuska climbed in and pulled up the covers. ‘Give her my bundle. Anatoley can wear my things.’
Florin nodded.
‘Tell her I’m safe. Don’t tell her about...’ Varuska gestured to the chamber, her pretty face pinched with fear. ‘Granna mustn’t worry.’
Florin nodded.
Here she was, running messages for Piro’s imposter when she should have been assassinating Cobalt. But it was thanks to Varuska’s masquerade that Florin knew Cobalt’s manservant was really an Ostronite assassin. She would have to take Amil into consideration when she killed Cobalt.
Whatever happened, she was not going to put Varuska’s life in danger.
Florin closed the door to Piro’s chamber and backed into a man-at-arms. Fool, she should have anticipated Cobalt would set a guard.
‘Here, where are you off to?’ He steadied her. A gleam lit up his eyes. ‘Breeches, eh?’
Florin sent him a cold look. ‘I need my bundle.’
Just then two men came down the corridor carrying a blanket-wrapped body between them. In a castle this size, with its many servants and visitors, someone was always sick and dying.
After they’d gone, the man-at-arms was no longer interested in her breeches. ‘Fetch your bundle. An’ be quick about it.’
Florin nodded, heading off down the passage. With every step she took, a feeling of foreboding grew. From Byren’s description, Cobalt was not the benevolent kind. Now that she thought about it, Old Mirona and Anatoley would be better off leaving tonight before Cobalt could reconsider and give Amil different orders.
As Florin rounded the bend, she nearly bumped into a candle-trimmer. They both jumped. He was half her size and nervous as a mouse. She would have apologised, but he hurried away with his step-stool and candle snuffer.
Florin entered the female servants’ chamber to find it in darkness. Only a glimmer of light came through the high window. She collected Varuska’s bundle and felt her way towards the old woman’s pallet. ‘Mirona?’
No answer.
Of course, it had been her body the men had been carrying. Poor old thing...
Florin’s boot crunched on something underfoot. She tucked the bundle under her arm, knelt and felt for the object. Her fingers found the shattered goddess.
Old Mirona had not died of natural causes.
Florin had to find Anatoley before Cobalt’s thugs did. Sick with horror, she fled.
P IRO TURNED TO the cabin boy. ‘Show me where you were keeping the kresatrices.’
‘We had them in the galley.’ Miron scurried along the hall
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