Neha walked to the part of the terrace that flowed down a wide step to a covered pathway that, if followed, led to another, lower terrace. “She was a lady-in-waiting, Jason. I know little of her life.”
Of course.
Unlike the Seven, Neha’s ladies-in-waiting were there to entertain, amuse, and otherwise see to Neha’s comfort, dismissed from the archangel’s mind the instant they were out of sight. “May I have access to the others who serve you?” He would also contact Samira, gain her impressions of Shabnam and Tarun.
“Yes.” Neha flared out her wings. “Mahiya will know where to find them.” With that, she rose off the terrace, an angel of grace, power, and . . . centuries of blood that stained her hands to ruby blackness.
* * *
Jason found Mahiya in the courtyard below the terrace, and though he’d given her no instructions, she said, “Most of the ladies-in-waiting are even now gathering in their private garden. I would, however, recommend you speak to them one at a time.”
“Agreed. However, seeing how they act as a group may prove helpful.”
“This way.” She turned left, her mint green tunic crisp against her skin. “Word travels fast in the small city that is the fort,” she said, answering the question he hadn’t asked. “I knew about the discovery of Shabnam’s body perhaps five minutes after the guard made it.” Fixing the pin that held her long white scarf neatly over her left shoulder, she shot him an assessing look. “He says you arrived seconds later. Dropped out of the sky like a black arrow.”
“Do you think I killed Shabnam?” He knew he was capable of murder should he ever have anyone of his own to protect. But that, of course, was an academic consideration.
“No.” An answer far more resolute than he’d expected. “However, everyone wonders how you knew.”
The winds had whispered a name, tugged him in a certain direction, but that wasn’t a secret he could tell this princess who saw things no one should be able to see . . . and who made him think impossible thoughts about always being welcomed home as he’d been last night. “I was flying above the fort, saw the guard running in a panic. It wasn’t difficult to sweep down, find out why.”
Mahiya raised a single eyebrow but kept her silence, and a minute later, they walked through one of the cool passages inside the fort to exit a few feet from gardens clothed in a profusion of fragrant blooms. Five women stood in a knot in one corner, blooms of another kind. When Mahiya would’ve moved out from the passageway, Jason stopped her with a hand on the silken warmth of her arm, the scent of her a caress to the senses. “Wait.”
“The body language is interesting, is it not?” Mahiya’s quiet comment echoed his own thoughts, her wing brushing his as she leaned in so he could hear her.
He didn’t move away. “Very.”
The tallest lady, an angel, had positioned herself so she didn’t fully face any of the others. Another angel, her wings the dusty brown of a sparrow’s, was holding on to a sylph of a vampire with the broken desperation of someone who isn’t sure her legs will support her, while a dark-eyed angel and a vampire with pale skin wiped at their eyes with what appeared to be lace handkerchiefs.
“The sparrow,” he murmured, “she actually grieves.” The rest indulged in theatre.
“Yes.” Sympathy in the single soft word. “Shabnam and she were both inducted into their positions at the same time, and rather than competing for Neha’s attention, they became friends who helped each other navigate the politics.”
“Why should there be politics? They occupy the same rarefied position.”
Mahiya shot him a frowning look. “Are you making fun?”
Jason hadn’t ever been accused of that, even by the irrepressible Illium. “Strange as it may seem,” he said, “I have never had reason to know about the inner workings of a group of ladies-in-waiting.” He had operatives who were far more capable in that arena and who kept him apprised of any necessary information from such quarters.
“A lady-in-waiting has certain access to Neha.” Mahiya appeared to have decided to take him at his word, though the suspicion in her eyes didn’t totally dissipate—and for some reason, that made a quiet amusement warm his blood. “None of them would be stupid enough to risk their position by actually asking for anything, but occasionally, if a lady is particularly favored, Neha will grant her a boon.”
Even a small boon from an archangel, Jason understood, could change the balance of power in a given situation. “Do they represent different groups in the court?” He looked at the women with new eyes, seeing iron butterflies, their wings edged with razors of ambition and greed.
“Not simply the court, but the territory.”
Thus, they all had puppet masters at their back, tugging strings, situating each for maximum gain . . . doing the dirty work.
“Lisbeth holds the most power at present.” She indicated the dark-eyed angel. “She’s very intelligent. They all are.”
He nodded in acknowledgment of the warning. “I take care to never underestimate an opponent, but I may have in this case.” Like the others around her, Lisbeth looked . . . frothy. Clothes of a gauzy fabric that caught the wind and glossy brown hair done up in an intricate mass of curls, jeweled combs in the strands, features painted with an artful delicacy that highlighted her ebony-skinned beauty. “I’ve seen enough.”
“Do you wish for me to organize interviews for you with the ladies?” Mahiya asked once they were back in the corridor.