Free Nightspell by Leah Cypess Page B

nights after I had gone to sleep.”
    “Who do you think did it?”
    “I don’t know. It must have been one of the dead, because my guards saw no one pass.”
    “So whoever it was went through the wal s?” He nodded. “What were you strangled with?”
    “I don’t know. It was gone by the time my body was discovered.”
    “Can ghosts carry weapons through wal s?”
    Kestin pressed both his hands against the tapestry behind him. This time, they didn’t go through. Instead he
    ran his fingers over the fabric, making a faint brushing sound. “The older ghosts can; they can make anything
    they’re holding fade with their bodies. The new ghosts . . . it’s dif icult for us to do anything we couldn’t do
    when we were alive.” He grimaced. “The older we get, the more powerful we become. I can’t manage much
    yet.”
    We. I. It was impossible to forget what he truly was, a corpse guised in silk and skin. Darri said hastily, “And
    it happened a few weeks ago?”
    He pushed himself away from the wal and took two steps sideways, his eyes remaining on her. “Yes.”
    Just about the time they would have heard about Kestin’s new marriage prospect.
    “And your father . . .” She said it experimental y, with no idea how she was going to end the sentence, and
    recognized the betrayed anger that ignited in the prince’s eyes. His father had trapped him in this state, unable to move beyond life, unable to be alive, either.
    “We’l keep your father out of it,” she said, and his eyes flashed again, but this time it wasn’t with anger. He
    smiled at her slowly.
    It was almost easy to tilt her head up and smile back. He stepped toward her, and something in the shift of
    shadows made his face look suddenly like a skul , white bone and bare teeth and hol ow, empty eyes. She
    caught her breath and looked away from him, down the dim, empty hal . When she looked back, he was no
    longer smiling. His forehead was creased as he looked down at her.
    “Be careful, though,” he said. “You’re not . . . there are members of the court, living and dead, who are not
    happy about the Rael ian presence here. Be wary when you talk to people. And try to avoid the Guardian.”
    His face looked alive again; his skin was bone white, his eyes deep-set and black, that was al . She was
    amazed when her voice emerged steady. “Who is the Guardian?”
    “The Guardian of the Living is his ful title.” Kestin stepped back and leaned against the wal again. “He
    tends to make an impression. He kil ed the man you were talking to the night you arrived.”
    “I remember,” Darri said shortly. “Guardian of the Living? Guarding them from what?”
    He laughed. “Isn’t it obvious?”
    “From the . . . dead?”
    Kestin shrugged. “Like I said: the dead are dangerous. Once it became clear that not al of us were going to
    take vengeance and move on, it was necessary for someone to protect the living. The Guardian took up that
    role.”
    “Is he dead too?”
    “He’s been around for hundreds of years. I would assume so.”
    “Why the armor?”
    “No one knows. So he can carry a silver sword, maybe.” Kestin shook his head. “He has absolute power to
    punish the dead, and nobody would argue with him if he went after one of the living. I don’t know how he
    feels about the presence of foreigners in our kingdom, so it’s probably best if you stay out of his way.”
    “Thank you for the warning,” Darri said. “And I wil do my best. But right now, I would like to talk to my
    sister.”
    “Of course,” Kestin said. He turned and gestured down the passageway. “Her room is right down this hal
    and up the stairs at the end, the first door on your left. I can walk you there, if you like.”
    She almost said yes. But then he dropped his hand to his side, and she saw the dark red of the tapestry right
    through it.
    “No,” she said. “Thank you, but—I think it would be bet er if I spoke to her alone.”
    Kestin nodded,