The Winner's Crime by Marie Rutkoski Read Free Book Online Page A

it. The library pos-
    sessed a paltry collection of books; it was mostly a glamor-
    ous room where courtiers sometimes met for a quiet tea, or
    THE WINNER
    where a military offi
    cer might consult one of the thousands
    of maps. The library would have suited Kestrel well if she
    had wanted to fi nd a map or to socialize . . . or if she’d
    wanted members of the court to see her researching Her-
    rani books.
    She had turned away from the thick library doors.
    Now she huddled in her velvet chair, trying to concen-
    trate on the actual words of her conversation with Verex
    instead of on their emotional undertow. She fl ipped the
    coin, fl ipped it again. Emperor. Jadis. Emperor. Jadis. He’s
    two- faced, Verex had said of his father. Kestrel thought
    about that phrase as she considered each side of the coin.
    Two- faced : the word dangled a hook into the dark well of
    her memory. It snagged on something.
    The Herrani believed that a god ruled not just one
    thing, but a whole domain of associated ideas, actions, ob-
    jects. The god of stars was the god of stars, yes, but also of
    accidents, beauty, and disasters. The god of souls . . . Kes-
    trel’s throat closed as she remembered Arin invoking that
    god, who ruled love. My soul is yours, he had said. You
    know that it is . His expression had been so open, so true.
    Frightened, even, of what he was saying. And she had
    been frightened, too, by how he had spoken what she felt.
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    It frightened her still.
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    The coin. Kestrel forced her attention again to the coin.
    SKI
    O
    There was nothing honest about the god of money. She
    recalled that now. This god was two- faced, like this piece
    of gold. Sometimes male, sometimes female. He rules buy-
    ing and selling, Enai had said, which means she rules negotia-
    MARIE RUTK
    tion. And hidden things. You can’t see both sides of one coin at
    once, can you, child? The god of money always keeps a secret.
    The god of money was also the god of spies.
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    5
    ARIN REMEMBERED.
    It had been easy at fi rst, the promise to be Cheat’s spy.
    “I trust you most,” the leader of the rebellion had mur-
    mured in Arin’s ear after his sale to the general’s daughter.
    “You are my second- in- command, lad, and between you
    and me we will have the Valorians on their knees.”
    Everything had slid and locked into place along well-
    oiled grooves.
    Except . . .
    Except.
    The general’s daughter had taken an interest in Arin. It
    was a gods- given opportunity, yet even in those early days
    as her slave, Arin had had the misgiving— uncomfortable,
    low, electric, like sparks rubbed off clothes in winter— that
    her interest would lead to his undoing.
    And Arin was Arin: he pushed his luck, as he always
    did.
    His habit was worse with her. He said things he
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    shouldn’t. He broke rules, and she watched him do it, and
    SKI
    O
    said little of the breaking.
    It was, he decided, because she didn’t care what he did.
    Then came an impulse whose danger he should have
    seen— would have seen, if he had been able to admit to
    MARIE RUTK
    himself what it was that made him want to shake her awake
    even though her eyes were open.
    Why should she care what a slave did?
    Arin would make her care.
    Arin remembered.
    How he couldn’t sleep at night in the slaves’ quarters
    for the music that needled its way through the dark, across
    the general’s grounds from the villa, where the girl played
    and played and didn’t care that he was tired, because she
    didn’t know that he was tired, because she gave no thought
    to him at all.
    He was whipped barebacked by her Valorian steward
    for some slight off ense. The next day she had ordered him