Nightvine Read online

  “Tyrenx,” Ev said.

  “You know the family?”

  She shook her head. “It just sounds familiar. Kind of like Varenx.”

  “Lots of Nalitzvan surnames end in -enx or -insk. An absolute rockslide of consonants, this language.” Thiyo shook his head minutely, and the shimmering fabric of his scarf caught the lamplight. “Sometimes they end in -ezh, though. I like that one.”

  Then he picked up his list as if he’d never been distracted from it. “That man in the corner glowering at me, that’s Rin Olvyel. He called me a filthy foreign bitch after I refused him at a party, so I dumped a pitcher of wine on him. And I suppose if we’re making a list of men I’ve rejected, we have to include Mihel Pelatzva, too. He sent me an absurd number of letters. He’s a terrible writer. I sent one back with suggestions to improve his style, but he never took my advice. Oh, and Loryesk Gorbezh grabbed my ass once and I turned around and punched him in the nose. That’s not my fault. He surprised me. I reacted. He should have known better than to approach me from behind, the rat. I told him that if I ever saw him treat another woman like that, I’d happily break my hand against his face again. And there’s Barold Hyersk over there, wearing a blue coat and an insipid smile on his horrible face. He tried his best to drug me, but unfortunately for him and fortunately for me, I have a high tolerance for venom. I vomited on his shoes and called him a vile fucking rapist, but Ilyr told me afterward that I said it—well, shrieked it, it was a moment of high emotion—in Hoi, so we’ll just have to hope the vomit conveyed my sentiments. On a different note, I see Merat Orzh across the room. She wanted to make a deal with me to import venom and I declined. I didn’t mean to offend her but Nalitzvans are so touchy and they have so many inscrutable rules.”

  “Lan,” Ev interrupted. The list had flowed as smoothly as their dancing, as though every time they turned, Thiyo saw someone to add. The amount of spilled wine, shrieking, and punching in Thiyo’s list made Ev wonder what kind of “scene” he planned to enact later. “This would go faster if you gave me a list of the people in this room you haven’t insulted.”

  Thiyo paused, looked around, and considered the matter in silence. Ev took the opportunity to turn the two of them around so they stayed in the swirl of other dancers, who were all moving in a grand circle around the room. Thiyo followed her lead fluidly.

  Since he was still quiet, Ev said, “Can I ask you something? Why all the languages?”

  This was met with an elegant raise of his brow. “You don’t think I’m just showing off?”

  “That’s just it. You’re not. You’re much better at Laalvuri than you let those people think.”

  “Oh no,” he said, with wide eyes and a shocked gasp. He pitched his voice higher and breathier. “You have it all wrong. Before I met Ilyr, I was a poor, stupid savage. I wouldn’t know any Laalvuri at all if His Highness hadn’t carried me from my primitive homeland and brought me here to be educated. He’s a miracle worker—why, he’s almost managed to make me seem human!”

  “Ugh,” Ev said. It was depressingly easy to imagine the Nalitzvan elite saying those things to Thiyo’s face.

  “It gets easier if I think about how simple it is to trick them,” Thiyo said. He was still speaking like Lan, but not in such an exaggerated way. “They see exactly what they want to see, and nothing more. There’s some satisfaction to be found in that.”

  “I hate it. Don’t you feel like you’re hurting other islanders, acting like this? Don’t you want these people to know how smart you really are?”

  “There are no other islanders here.”

  He didn’t answer the other question. They danced in silence for a moment.

  Then Thiyo said, “I know how smart I am. Sometimes, that’s enough.”

  “And the rest of the time?”

  “Oh, I construct elaborate fantasy scenarios in my head where I verbally eviscerate everyone who’s ever condescended to me. It happens in some grand public arena. They all realize how wrong they were, and then bow their heads in shame. Afterward, I am inundated with useless apologies from people who now long to be returned to my good graces. I reject them. Everyone is very impressed. They also all come to the realization that it was me, that strange dark-eyed polyglot foreigner, who wrote everything Ilyr ever published. They remember how often I spoke other languages in front of them, and they’re all terribly embarrassed not to have put it together sooner. Odes are written to my wit and intellect. I am showered with praises and flower petals.” Thiyo lifted his face upward as if to receive these blessings.

  “Does that help?”

  “Not really,” Thiyo said. “But you know what does help?”

  He obviously had an answer prepared, so Ev waited.

  “You know,” he said, and favored her with a smile. “I like that about you.”

  “Oh,” Ev said flatly. She should have known he’d ruin things sooner or later. “So that’s what I’m good for. Bearing witness to your brilliance.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  If he weren’t so indignant, she wouldn’t find it necessary to correct him. But she did. Ev gave him a level look and explained, “The thing you like about me is actually a thing you like about yourself.”

  “That’s not what I said or what I meant.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be fantastically good at talking?” Ev said. She should have paid more attention at the table, where Thiyo had appeared to be charming strangers left and right. Because if this conversation was the best he had to offer, they were definitely going to get arrested. Possibly executed. “And writing? You wrote some kind of… poetry.”

  From the way Erinsk had talked about it, and the way the prison guards had crushed Thiyo’s fingers, Ev suspected “poetry” was a generous description of what was most likely pornography with rhymes. Did Nalitzvan poetry even rhyme? Ev didn’t know.

  “I take it back,” Thiyo said, testy. “I don’t like anything about you at all.”

  “Back to business, then. Who had the means to hurt you? Who would have known?”

  “That’s just it,” he said. “None of these dunces could possibly have outsmarted me.”

  “And yet someone did.”

  “Thank you for reminding me,” Thiyo said, sounding significantly colder than he had a moment ago.

  “Did you say something about breaking your hand against someone’s face?” Ev said. “The man you punched. Lores Gor-something.”

  “Loryesk Gorbezh,” Thiyo answered. “I did say that to him. He’s a brute, though. I’d be surprised if he were capable of any kind of plan. You think he remembered what I said and then had his revenge?”

  “Maybe,” Ev said. “And the prince and princess, you’re really sure it couldn’t possibly have been them? Aniyat already betrayed you once, if that story you told was true.”

  “She cast me aside to please Ilyr, that’s true,” Thiyo said. “But if Aniyat really wanted me gone, she could have just asked Ilyr to send me home. Or kill me. She had the power. And she never knew about those poems, but if she found them, I don’t think she would have published them. Even anonymously. It would have reduced her power over Ilyr. Damaging to her, too. Besides, she wasn’t surprised to see me here. If she were behind all this, wouldn’t she expect me to be rotting in that cell?”

  “She didn’t look surprised,” Ev corrected. “She might have been acting.”

  “This is why we need Alizhan,” Thiyo said, and withdrew from Ev’s arms as the dance ended.

  “There you are,” Alizhan said cheerfully when they returned to the table. “It was so peaceful without the two of you here, but I missed you anyway. Well, it wasn’t really peaceful, but all the conflict was boring because I don’t care about these people. Did you know everyone here hates everyone else?”

  Alizhan was treading perilously close to exposing herself, but Ev couldn’t say anything about that, so she said, “I’m beginning to understand that.” The Laalvuri speakers at the table, the woman and he
r sandy-haired husband who’d spoken to Ev earlier, were gaping at Alizhan. Next to Ev, Thiyo was vibrating with so much silent laughter that he was having trouble breathing. That damn corset. If he fainted again, Ev would have to carry him out of here like she carried him upstairs in Erinsk’s shop earlier. “You’re in good spirits.”

  “I like being drunk,” Alizhan said.

  At this, the man who had told Ev earlier that liquor would fix her silence raised his glass, and Alizhan beamed at him.

  “Take me dancing,” Alizhan ordered. She grabbed Ev’s hand and stood up. Ev stared at their interlocking hands and the contrast of Alizhan’s white glove against her skin. Was Alizhan’s hand too warm, or was it Ev who suddenly felt feverish? Alizhan had never touched her so freely before. A shift ago, they’d been sitting in Erinsk’s dressing room, holding their breath before every brush of their hands. What did this moment mean?

  Ev blinked. She was being ridiculous. Her face was hot and she had to clear her head. Had she been expecting ceremony with every touch? Something like Thiyo’s fantasy triumph with poetry and rose petals? Of course it would happen like this, sudden and unremarkable, as if they’d always done it this way.

  “I had to bite your neck in public to get that kind of a reaction. All she has to do is touch your hand,” Thiyo said in Adpri, sighing. “Terribly unfair.”

  “I don’t know what that means and I don’t care,” Alizhan replied in Laalvuri, and then she pulled at Ev’s arm until Ev escorted her to the dance floor. “I’ve never been able to stop listening before,” she said to Ev, as they took up their positions. “Before, everything washed over me all the time and I had no choice about it. Now, I don’t hear anything unless I focus really hard. Mala spent all her time trying to teach me to shut it all out, but all I really needed was some liquor.”

  “Wai,” Ev corrected. “I don’t think plain alcohol will help you.”

  “Yes, but I drank a lot of it anyway. Dinner was boring.”

  As a dancer, Alizhan wasn’t as good at following as Thiyo was, but Ev felt far more at ease in her company. Still, she couldn’t help but worry. “And that won’t be a problem later? Or now?”

  Alizhan blew a dismissive “pbbbbt” sound through her lips, which highborn Laalvuri ladies were probably not supposed to do, and Ev laughed. Let people stare. The two of them already looked different enough, and people were going to be staring at Ev later if they weren’t now.

  “So we’re passing by one of our new friends now,” Ev said in a low voice. “Brown hair, pink dress, behind you.”

  Alizhan glanced over her shoulder, then quickly turned back. “She doesn’t know anything good,” she said, dismissing Kiryet Altvyezh even faster than Thiyo had. Alizhan didn’t bother to lower her voice, and she didn’t lean in like Thiyo had, either. “She hates Lan for stupid reasons. She’s been talking to people about it all shift—Lan will like that. Altvyezh didn’t plan anything.”

  “Lan will like that?”

  “Of course she’ll like that,” Alizhan said. “She loves attention. It’s her fondest hope that both the prince and the princess are obsessing over her right now.”

  Ev nodded, feeling foolish. She should have known. She didn’t bother to ask if Alizhan was speculating about Thiyo’s hopes or giving a straightforward report. “And the people Altvyezh talked to? Who were they?”

  Alizhan groaned. “I can’t tell. She didn’t really notice or care, except that they would listen to her talk shit about Lan.”

  “How many people were willing to listen to Altvyezh complain?”

  “A lot,” Alizhan said. “I don’t think Lan was very good at making friends.”

  “I can’t imagine why,” Ev murmured.

  “Me either,” Alizhan said, with apparent sincerity. “She likes words and pretty things and she doesn’t think I’m creepy and weird! She’s the only person—except for you—who likes me without going all drippy with pity.”

  Ev recalled that not long ago, she’d also thought Thiyo’s warmth toward Alizhan was a mark of good character. It was still one of Thiyo’s few redeeming qualities. It wasn’t enough. “You’re being too hard on other people. My parents like you. Mala and Djal like you. Eliyan, too.” Ev didn’t bring up Kasrik or Mar, although she believed they’d come around to liking Alizhan eventually.

  “You’re not listening,” Alizhan said. “Don’t be jealous that I found another friend.”

  “I’m not jealous,” Ev said. But Alizhan had instilled the tiniest of doubts: was she jealous? That would be absurd. Alizhan could be friends with whoever she wanted. Ev’s concerns were legitimate. “I’m worried. She’s selfish and mean, Alizhan. We shouldn’t trust her.”

  “I know your opinion,” Alizhan said, rather archly. “All of your opinion, not just the parts you say out loud. But I’m not allowed to talk to you about that stuff, by your own dumb rule, so don’t get mad at me later for not explaining things to you. You don’t have to like Lan, but you can’t stop me from liking her. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  Ev sighed. She was dancing with Alizhan. They’d never touched each other this much or been so close to each other. What if they never got the chance again? She should enjoy this. Alizhan recovered quickly from their little spat, looking around the room with bright eyes and a slightly drunken grin. The high ceiling, the hundreds of lamps, and the dancers in swishing skirts made a dreamlike scene.

  “I never thought I’d see anything like this,” Ev admitted. A gleaming royal ballroom all the way across the sea where people ate strange food and chattered in strange tongues and moved their feet to strange dances, with strains of music drifting through the air.

  “Me either. I’m glad I don’t have to listen to how much they all hate each other. It ruins the mood.”

  Ev laughed. “Surely some of them like each other.”

  “Some of them,” Alizhan agreed. “And some of them like each other too much. Can I try something?”

  Without waiting for an answer, Alizhan removed her hands from Ev so she could peel off her right glove. She crumpled it in her left hand, which she quickly put back on Ev’s shoulder so they could resume dancing. Then she lifted her bare hand up as if she were going to place it back in Ev’s grip. Ev offered her own hand up without a word, her heart reckless and rapid and ready.

  Instead of slipping her hand into the traditional grip, Alizhan placed her palm parallel to Ev’s, pressing their hands flat together and matching all their fingertips. Ev stiffened for an instant, waiting for pain or unconsciousness, but there was nothing. And there was everything: the feel of Alizhan’s naked skin against her own, the warmth of it, the smoothness, a kind of magic neither of them had ever experienced.

  Alizhan’s grey eyes went wide, staring at their hands. Then she said, her tone somewhere between astonishment and glee, “I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

  That Alizhan was beautiful. That Ev would like to touch her more. That this moment ought to last forever. That the world would be a better place if they could do this all the time. That life must have been very, very lonely for Alizhan. That Ev’s heart was going to break.

  It was too much, so Ev only said, “Well, I never know what you’re thinking.”

  Alizhan laughed, a little exhalation of joy and relief, and Ev saw that there were tears in her eyes. “It’s nice.”

  Alizhan had talked for paragraphs in Erinsk’s shop, quick and emphatic and passionate. She’d blurted out inappropriate, candid comments only moments ago at the dinner table. And yet of all the things she’d said recently, the most significant was it’s nice. A tiny platitude brimming with meaning. A puff of smoke over the peak of a volcano.

  Ev pressed her lips together in the tiniest of smiles. Then she asked, “It’s nice that we’re touching or it’s nice not knowing what anyone is thinking?”

  This time, when Alizhan laughed, a tear or two spilled, and she mopped them up with the back of her gloved hand, unwilling to stop touching Ev. “B
oth,” she said with certainty. Her gaze wandered from their hands to Ev’s face. “Ev, I want—”

  Ev knew the end of that sentence, no matter what it was. She wanted, too. But it wasn’t time to cause a scene yet, and they were passing another of Thiyo’s suspects. Alizhan shook her head as they passed Mihel Pelatzva, the writer of terrible letters.

  “I can’t get much from him. He’s thinking about women,” Alizhan said. “No women in particular, though, which is kind of strange. People are usually more specific.”

  “You think it’s suspicious?”

  Alizhan shrugged. “Thiyo said he was a bad writer. Maybe he’s bland on the inside, too.”

  Ev wasn’t surprised to learn that Orlat Linsk, the jealous wife, was innocent of everything except bad feeling toward Lan. Lan’s other rejected admirers, ranging from clingy to dangerous, were also not involved. Ev was disappointed to learn that the men who’d grabbed Thiyo and tried to slip things into his drink weren’t their targets. She would have liked to see those men suffer.

  “He’s disgusting,” Alizhan said of Loryesk Gorbezh, the erstwhile ass-grabber, “but he didn’t betray Lan.”

  “And Barold Hyersk, the attempted rapist? He’s over there in the blue coat. Talking to a man in grey. Looking far too happy.”

  Alizhan considered him for a moment. “There’s something wrong with him.”

  “Obviously.”

  “No, not that. His mind is… most people are full, thinking and feeling too many things at once. He’s not.”

  “You mean he’s coldhearted and calculating?”

  “Think of the inside of a person like the inside of a house. Most are stuffed with memories and thoughts and feelings in different states of disarray. A few are orderly. That’s the result of serious mental discipline. And some people lock me out entirely—they feel blank, even if they’re not. But Hyersk has all the doors and windows wide open, and there’s barely anything inside. It’s not orderly, it’s just empty. No memories. No beliefs. He has a thought occasionally, but it’s always about the immediate present, and then it disappears. He has no plans, no intentions. I’m not sure he could form any. It’s sort of amazing that he’s still walking and talking, with a mind like this.” Alizhan paused. Since touching Ev’s hand, she’d pressed closer and lowered her voice. Ev was glad to see her exercise a little caution, even if the language of their conversation protected them from the majority of potential eavesdroppers. “That man next to him pities him. He’s thinking about how different Hyersk is. He’s wondering if Hyersk hit his head, and if he’ll ever be the same again.”