Small flakes swirled in the light breeze, alighting on the blanketed back courtyard. Clouds filled the late-night sky, so Lapis knew a heavier storm approached. Wavering between returning to the Eaves and remaining ensconced in the warm House, she held out her hand and watched the snow waft to her chilled flesh, land, and melt.
She had already visited a sleeping Lykas, spoken to Jandra about a gift for Jerin, and pondered whether she should look into something for Patch, Faelan and Rin. They all had given her something special, and an insistent, intensifying dread pounded in her brain, declaring she needed to do the same, before the Pit took them.
She sucked in a shuddering breath. How could she protect those she loved from a collapsing empire? A dysfunctional, paranoid king?
“It is cold out.”
She gasped, slapped her hand against her chest, and willed her heart to calm. Tuft cocked his head at her and exited the doorway, dainty in his step as he moved around the windblown mounds. He halted next to her and held out his palm, then stared at the melting flakes.
“Snow will forever remind me of Dreamer.” He closed his fingers and regarded the silent garden beyond the paved half-circle meant as a private entrance for the owner. “I helped raid human storage during the frozen times, for cold and snow meant fewer guards and fewer accidental encounters. That is all cold and snow ever meant to me. But now, I know they can bring joy.”
“They can.” Lapis shoved her hand beneath her arm; now that he broke her thoughts, she realized her icy fingers hurt. “There’s a sledding hill outside the Shells. I’ve taken the rats there and rented sleds for them. They love having races to see who gets to the bottom first. They usually crash, but it’s all in good fun.”
“Fun is strange,” Tuft said.
“Howso?”
“There was no joy in the Shivers or the Cloister,” he said. “Even for humans. Members calculated every act to bring them the most power within the cult. When Taangis forced them to leave, I was happy, but it held no relief or joy, just a realization that no human would hold my fate in their hands. I defeated Maphezet Kez and I knew subsequent threats would end in the same manner. I continued as I was, leading the Shivers, caring for problems. Fun, enjoyment, these were things that never entered my existence.”
Lapis rubbed at her nose. Could mechanical beings feel emotions? She pondered the question often, for when she spoke with them, they seemed to understand what feelings were—at least the ones with Gedaavik’s special code. They expressed empathy and sympathy and curiosity. Dreamer had cried, an emotion he ripped from the depths of himself, and she had felt his disbelieving elation to her core.
Shivers raced through her arms and she wished she had grabbed a thicker coat. “Too bad the janks are still around. I think you’d like the Lells. It’s not so busy now that the tourists have dried up due to the trouble, so you wouldn’t feel so odd walking the squares.”
“The children speak of the Lells often.”
“Maydie and Movique don’t see rats as a problem. Their presence hasn’t hurt their business; the Lells is the most popular market in Jiy, followed by Candycakes and the Night Market.” She half-laughed. “Funny, how the eastern side of Jiy thinks so much less of the western side, but they’ll rent a carriage for an all-day outing to shop here.” She glanced back at the dim fruit oil lamplight drifting through the windows to cast a sickly yellow glow upon the snow. “Maydie and Movique gave Path a special badge. Merchants know if she purchases something, it’s put on a tab for me or my brother to pay. They can do the same for you.”
“Khentauree have little use for money.” He pulled his gaze from the garden. “Why are you up so late? Should you not sleep?”
She nodded and bowed her head. “I have nightmares, and they wake me up screaming. I don’t want to wake up everyone in the House with me.”
“Nightmares?” He stilled, as frozen as the icicles hanging from the eaves, then trotted to the door. “Selda keeps warm water for tea in the kitchen, for rebels who come and go at all times of day and night. Then we can sit in a warm parlor as you drink it.”
We? Lapis, uncertain and reluctant to keep him company, but knowing she needed to get out of the cold, padded inside and to the kitchen. Because he expected it, she placed ground leaves in a handheld strainer with a perforated top, slid the thing into a mug, poured the water, and waited for it to seep. After what seemed like a short eternity, she withdrew the strainer, dumped the leaves, rinsed it in a bowl of water already a pale tea color, added milk from the cold box, and poured more sugar than prudent into the drink. Such mundane things, but Tuft said nothing, though he studied her acts with an intensity she assumed was prompted by curiosity.
Tuft led her to one of the warmer sitting rooms. A single lamp, turned low, lit the room, ready for a rebel to enter and conduct business. She settled into a plush couch and nearly popped back up when a guard peeked in. He shook his head, motioned for her to stay, and withdrew.
When Baldur ran the Jiy House, he disliked paying guards. He knew their worth but kept the numbers to a minimum. Patch grumbled about it, but the man ignored her partner, preferring to pocket the money. Faelan, now that he was the default Jiy House headman, had guards, tech surveillance, and strict orders about patrols. It unnerved her, to turn around and have a guard standing behind her. She should get used to it; those patrols would increase, the closer it came to taking out Gall and his worthless court.
She sipped the tea, waiting until sweat beaded on her brow from the warm brew to take off her coat. The room had a nice temperature, despite the lack of bodies to heat it. She sank into the cushions and studied her wet boots.
“Have you spoken more to the khentauree we rescued?”
“A bit.” Tuft’s voice was as warm as the tea and lacked his typical, mechanical buzz. He pulled a thick cushion from behind another couch and set it on the floor, then curled his legs beneath him and bedded down. “They have lost most of their memory, which means they have lost themselves. They try to access it, but Jhor is not certain they can. He thought to return to Ambercaast and use his equipment to retrieve their memories, but the Minq refused to fly in the snow. They said the mountain winds, especially in the colder months, are dangerous. So he and Sanna visited the scientists at the Minq headquarters.” Laughter drifted from him, low and definitely amused. “He told Faelan he will make the House into a modder’s paradise, as he’s stuck here so often.”
She smiled, more at his unexpected humor than at what he said. “That almost sounds like an invitation for Sils to move in.”
“Yes. Jhor said having a Dentherion modder in Jiy would prove important in the coming days. I’m under the impression Sils likes cities, and though not as large or tech-infused as Trave, he would prefer to live here rather than in rural Ambercaast.” He shrugged. “After your king falls, I don’t think it will be rural much longer.”
“No?”
“Ghost and Nathala plan to open one of the old train tunnels that runs from Ambercaast to Jiy. Harsh winds and heavy snows won’t prevent travel between.”
She nodded and sipped more tea. “The roads are trash until after the spring thaw.”
“It is a place of meetings and important decisions. It will stay that way, I think.”
She yawned into the back of her wrist. “Dagby and Cassa will appreciate it.”
“Jhor finds their relationship cute. I don’t understand.”
“They’re an unlikely couple. Dagby has a violent, drugged-up history, and Cassa’s a serious scientist from another country, but when in each other’s company, they light up. Their past isn’t as important as a future together. Dagby said he knew, when he first met her, where his heart led. I think it was the same for her.” She yawned again and sucked down the tea. Hot coursed down her throat and into her chest; she winced and set the mug on the end table before rubbing at her eyes.
“Warm tea, warm room. They are good for sleep.”
She looked at him, her sight bleary because of tired tears. “I guess so.”
Tuft rose and retrieved a blanket from the other couch. It was a knitted affair with tassels, and while Lapis thought it hideous, the heat it trapped would keep her cozy. “You should lay down,” he advised. “When nightmares come, know I will be here.”
What an odd sentiment, but one she appreciated. She blinked rapidly, losing the fight to stay awake, and grabbed one of the backrest cushions to use as a pillow. The khentauree draped the blanket over her, drug his cushion so he sat near, and hummed, sweet and low. The warmth and softness reminded her of garden insects buzzing on Mid Year days, and she drifted on those happier memories until sleep claimed her.
