Mercia pulled her robe closed. “That’s what you wanted to know, isn’t it?”

“This is business, Mercia. This is all just business. You mistake it for something else, you get killed. You understand? Bodies are my business.”

Mercia raised her chin. “I understand,” she said.

“Good.”

Nyx walked to the door, looked back once. Mercia stood in the dim light of the window, robe slightly open, long, pale legs visible. Her expression was a little stricken. She’d be fine. Neither of the bodyguards had checked in on them, and they hadn’t exactly been quiet, which meant her people were used to her bringing lovers home. Nyx wondered if all the others Mercia dragged home were like her—scarred and twisted, something to gossip about back home over high tea. Going to bed with a Nasheenian was about as exciting a time as a rich dip could hope for. Not for the first time, Nyx wasn’t so sure that one of her impulsive fucks was a good idea. Especially knowing what she was about to do.

Nyx shut the door.

She stood a moment in the hall, trying to get her bearings. The radio was on downstairs, coming from the kitchen. The housekeeper’s rooms were out back, further down the lawn.

Nyx pulled her dagger. Not her preferred weapon, but it was quiet.

She padded down the stairs. Peered into the kitchen. The smaller bodyguard, Ayah, was there, feet on the table, listening to the radio as it wafted out misty images of some story from the Kitab. She was sipping a malty beverage. She was alone.

Nyx killed her quickly and cleanly. Ayah barely had time to turn her head before Nyx bared her throat. Ayah kicked back, spastically jerking her legs. Her chair clattered across the floor.

Nyx left the bodyguard in a pool of blood and went into the yard searching for Khanaya. She found her peering up toward Mercia’s room. Mercia had just closed the shutters.

At Nyx’s age, she had learned to move fast. Surprise and experience were her only advantages.

Khanaya turned as the knife came down. Caught the blade with her forearm. They grappled.

Khanaya fumbled for a pistol, too hasty, panicked. Nyx drove her knife into Khanaya’s eye and punched her in the throat to stifle the scream. She held Khanaya down until she bled out. Then Nyx gritted her teeth, hooked her arms under the body’s, and hauled the still-warm corpse back into the kitchen. She slopped it next to Ayah’s.