Page 8 of Of Thieves and Shadows

Zaina reaches into her cloak and I tense, but she only pulls out a small leather case.

“You got it, then?” Aika’s voice is breathy with relief.

The other woman nods. “I added the ashes to the solution we had on hand.”

Aika frowns. “Did you have it on hand already?”

“No,” Zaina says shortly, opening the case to reveal a rather large glass vial filled with swirling, smoke-colored liquid.

“Well, you didn’t have time to go into Bondé…” Aika leads.

The lady shrugs gracefully. “I borrowed it from the palace stores.”

Wonderful. Whateveritis.

“Well, it’s nice to know thieving runs in the family as well as lying,” I comment drily.

It’s possible that Zaina is not as bad as Aika is—though, I really know nothing about her—but she certainly wasn’t forthcoming when I asked her if Aika posed a danger to my family.

Honestly, Remy, if she had wanted any of you dead, you would be, several times over.

Conveniently leaving out that she works for a woman who most certainly has been and is a danger to my family. All of which begs the question of what she does want.

Aika. Madame.

I’m distracted from pondering it much further when Zaina climbs onto the bed and delicately settles near Aika’s feet. She seems to be taking extra care not to jostle the bed, furthering my suspicions that Aika undersold her injuries.

Zaina reaches out to move Aika’s skirts, and my wife levels her sister with a warning glare, pulling her legs up closer to her.

“Keeping him in the dark at this point only puts us all in danger, including him,” Zaina says, but she keeps her hands where they are.

Aika visibly hesitates, and Zaina sees it, too.

“Either you talk while I work, or I’ll tell him my version.” Zaina’s tone is authoritative.

“Don’t pretend I can’t take you in a fight,” Aika mutters.

Zaina scoffs, shaking her black waves behind her. “Don’t pretend you could take anyone in a fight right now.” Her expression softens then. “Besides, you’ll probably want the distraction.”

“Is that what you call adding torture on top of torture?” Aika asks sardonically.

Zaina only sighs, waiting until her sister gives in. With a reluctant nod, Aika finally stretches out her legs.

And that’s when I see them.

The shoes.

The tiny, delicate glass heels that I had assumed were more of Lady Aika’s—or Lady Delmara’s—flair for dramatics. The ostentatious footwear she had refused to remove when I have never known her to be anything but practical in her comfort.

They are red now, her blood spilling out in thick rivulets, soaking the layers of her dress.

Ridiculous, I had called them.

Cruelhad not occurred to me.

Another word crosses my mind, one I used only a moment ago, suspecting she would hold out undertorture. And she had shifted her feet. No wonder she’s so pale.

Worse than the blood and the pain I’m beginning to suspect she’s in is the way she doesn’t flinch and the way Zaina doesn’t bat an eyelash.

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