Page 40 of The Winner's Crime
“I want to know who’s been bribing you,” he said.
“That’s not what I thought you’d ask.”
“I’ve been to the city.” Arin hated being in the palace. He felt better in the city, though he didn’t like that either, and never shook the feeling of being in enemy territory. He prowled it, and kept to the alleys. “There’s a tavern—”
“I know the one you mean. It’s the only place that serves Herrani.”
“They serve everyone—especially bet-makers and bookkeepers. If I were to bet on something, it’d be on the fact that you must have every courtier in the palace hounding you for a tip on what your lady will wear to her wedding. The payout could be huge.”
Deliah had been stabbing pins into the small cushion strapped to her wrist. Now she stopped and ran a finger over the stiff silver grass of clustered pins. “I don’t tell anyone anything about the wedding dress. I don’t take bribes. Not even from you.”
“I’m not saying that you do. That’s not what I want. Just tell me who’s been asking.”
“If you want a list, it’ll be long.”
“So tell me who isn’t asking.”
She was still wary. “Why?”
“Because that’s the person who already knows.”
Deliah touched the pins again. “The Senate leader,” she said. “Most of the courtiers ask in person, even the important ones. They don’t want to risk that somebody else might learn what they think I’ll tell. But I’ve never seen the Senate leader. Even his daughter, Maris, wants to find out. Her bribe was the promise that I could work for her.” Deliah gave a short laugh. “I dress the imperial family. The emperor would never let me go.” Her eyes challenged Arin, daring him to promise that something would change, that he could make it change for her.
His hot feeling of shame cooled into a black lump: a hard, burnt thing.
He moved to leave.
“Something happened to her,” Deliah said suddenly.
He stopped. “What do you mean?”
“Before you came—weeks before you came—Lady Kestrel’s maids brought me a dress. It was white and gold. And filthy. The hem had been dragged through something, I’m not sure what. It was on the seat of the dress, too. The knees. There was vomit on one sleeve. Some seams had split.”
Arin’s mouth went dry.
“The maids wanted to know if I could salvage it,” Deliah said. “Impossible. It was ruined. I tore that dress into rags.”
Arin made himself speak. “When?”
“I told you when.”
“Was Kestrel with someone the day she wore that dress?”
Deliah spread her hands helplessly. “I have no idea exactly when she wore it, or the company she might have kept. You’d have to ask her ladies-in-waiting, and I don’t recommend that. At least one of them is in the pocket of the prince, and only the gods know how many report to the emperor.”
“You must know something more.”
“I’ve told you everything.”
“You see her. When you fit her to a dress … you see her skin. Was there … damage?” He had a gut-wrenching memory of Kestrel’s face after Cheat had attacked her. “Bruises. Scars. Anything. Anything around that time. Anything since.”
“No,” said Deliah, which was a deep relief to him until she added, “not that I could see. I haven’t fitted her in the past week, though.”
“Watch her.”
“I can’t do that. I can’t keep reporting to you. The emperor…”
“I am Herran’s governor.”
