“Of course,” she replied sadly. “She loved both of you very much.” She paused and dabbed at her eyes with an already damp and wrinkled lace handkerchief. Seregil took his out and pressed it into her hand.

“Thank you. It was so sudden! And she was so looking forward to the play last night. She just said she was a little tired. I had no idea—”

“I doubt she did, either, my dear,” Seregil said.

“May we see her?” asked Alec.

“I’ll be here,” Thero told them.

Ysmay led Seregil and Alec up the gilded marble staircase to Kylith’s bedchamber, where the lady was laid out on the bed in a magnificent gold-embroidered gown and slippers, and heavy gold and ruby jewelry. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, as always, and adorned with jeweled pins.

“You did her proud, Ysmay.” Seregil went to the bedside. “Rhíminee has lost some of its light today.” He placed a hand over Kylith’s where they rested on her breast and bent to kiss her brow. A single tear ran down her cheek as if she were weeping rather than him. Accepting Alec’s handkerchief, he carefully blotted the streak of moisture away so as not to mar her carefully applied cosmetics.

They returned downstairs to find Duke Reltheus there.

“Such a wonderful lady.” Reltheus sighed. “I wish I’d gotten to know her better.”

“Mother is devastated,” said Selin. “She was friends with her since before I was born. Lady Kylith was always there, my whole life, like an extra aunt.” He broke off and wiped his eyes.

Just then Atre was ushered in by the doorman. He could easily have been mistaken for a nobleman, so richly was he dressed and bejeweled. His mouth was set in a tragic line, and he looked pale and drawn.

“I hope I do not give offense with my presence,” he murmured, coming over to join them. He cast a curious look at Thero. “I could not believe the news. Though when you did not come to the theater last night— Such a tragedy!”

At this range Seregil could see that Atre was wearing a bit of cosmetics. His grief might be genuine, perhaps enough to affect his looks, but his vanity was clearly intact.

They exchanged condolences, then Atre went to offer his sympathies to the grieving niece.

“He must have been very fond of her,” said Thero.

“Perhaps, though I think he was more interested in her purse, which is now in the hands of Ysmay.”

Thero shook his head disapprovingly. “The man is nothing if not bold.”

“It’s a shame he and Kylith were on such strained terms at the end,” said Alec.

Ysmay was weeping in Atre’s arms now.

Seregil frowned, watching them. “It doesn’t seem to have affected relations with the niece. I suspect he’s just secured his new patron.”

Chapter 23 - Malthus