Page 111 of The Mercy Makers
Huya widens his eyes at Iriset, but she’s watching Amaranth’s handmaiden Ziyan mé Tal hum a melody up at the aviary to capture the attention of the panicked skull sirens. Iriset had no assigned handmaiden today because Nielle was with her, so Ziyan’s presence means Amaranth is here.
Iriset goes quickly to the study, noticing that the Seal guards glance at each other for a split second, as if considering whether they might deny her access. Luckily, they don’t try it.
Within is Lyric, surrounded by Garnet, Sidoné, and Amaranth. They’re a tense quartet: Lyric is seated against the fore of the crescent desk, his posture vibratingly rigid, with Garnet slightly behind him and toward the force-wall, large arms crossed angrily over his chest; Amaranth towers in the center of the room, her hands spread not in supplication but discord, and Sidoné crouches near her, head down as if either listening to something only she can hear, or in despair.
The way they turn sharply and as one to her when she enters teaches Iriset all she needs to know: They’d been discussing Singix.
Drawing herself up, she looks at Lyric. “What happened?”
He hesitates, staring at her worriedly. “Leave us,” he says to the others.
Iriset glances at her worktable: It appears undisturbed, except for some of her mask-making paraphernalia not where she left them, and there’s a scatter of dark beans and dried berries… the cocoa and berries Diaa gave her when they snuck out of the palace. But nothing incriminating on display. They haven’t discovered her design tools, penetrating her alarms without triggering them.
Amaranth disregards her brother’s order and takes Iriset’s hands. “A girl in the offices of the Architect of the Seal was found dead, with poisoned paint on her hands. It was paint meant for you, for your mask project.”
“Poisoned paint?” Iriset blinks. “That is what killed Dalir méra Idris?” She says it as a question, but she knows: That Vertex Seal, the brother of Safiyah the Bloody, was murdered by therelatives of criminals he executed with an ingeniously poisoned face paint.
“It may be similar, and we’re collecting everything you have already, paints and dyes.” Garnet says, his voice a low rumble. “Menna will look into it, and your combat-designer.”
“Huya,” Iriset says absently, imagining poison spreading through peacock-green pigments, smeared on her fingers. If it’s not face paint, but for her art, maybe it’s a creeping poison, architectural like her crawling design that changed the color of her skin, that dyed her hair and pulled its texture smoother. What if she touched Lyric with that poison? She looks at him.
Immediately he pushes off the desk and strides to her, nudging Amaranth away. “You’re scaring her.”
“I’m all right,” Iriset protests, reaching for his face; she stops at the last moment, a flash of Erxan’s too-wide eyes and his yell under her hands. “I—I was thinking how easily I could spread such a poison to you.”
He takes her hands in his own and presses them to his cheeks.
“It will have come from outside the palace,” Iriset murmurs.
“I was suggesting we send you away,” Garnet says. “For safety.”
Iriset gasps, inadvertently gripping Lyric’s face. He doesn’t wince, and she drops her hands, turning to Her Glory as Amaranth says, “It’s a bad idea.”
Lyric steps closer behind her and covers her shoulders with his hands. “I would not like to see you go, but… I want you safe most of all.”
“Might they not follow me?”
Garnet says, “I doubt it. We could spirit you away in the night, with a small group of very trusted people. Perhaps Her Glory could spare Sidoné for a time.”
Sidoné surges to her feet. “We could keep you safe, away from here. Until the culprit is caught, or until…”
“That is the problem,” Amaranth says. “We do not know when you could return, if you were sent away and we continued to make no progress. Whoever is behind this has hidden for quads. They have powerful friends.”
“Who is more powerful than you?” Iriset asks, and Her Glory scowls.
“I can’t imagine being without you for an unknown amount of time,” Lyric says softly. She hears him draw breath to say more, but only silence follows.
“Lyric.” Iriset twists her neck to meet his eyes briefly, then continues on to Amaranth, Garnet, and Sidoné. “I must consider such a thing closely. For what message does it send if I go away? Not only to potential enemies, but Ceres? My father will not like it.”
Lyric squeezes her shoulders, but Sidoné says, “Singix,” very firmly, in disapproval.
Iriset says, “I will go if I must, but perhaps you will find the culprit now? Soon? Because of new evidence from this attempt?”
“Maybe,” Garnet says. “Everyone is being traced. I should go supervise now that you are here.”
“Do you think the girl, the dead girl, was involved, or another casualty?”
Sidoné answers, “Menna thinks a casualty.”
