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Part of me wondered if I shouldn’t have made my identity known the moment I’d arrived in Isolas. Even as a deposed queen, I would’ve garnered some curiosity. Once I displayed my command over the storms, that curiosity might have turned into respect. Respect could become faith, and faith always made me stronger. If enough people in Isolas believed in me, I might’ve been powerful enough to bring down the walls of the Basilica di Magia on my own, but the Council of Magic was not my enemy, and I already had more of those than I could juggle.
Le Poing Fermé wanted to appear uninvolved in Jackie’s escape from the Council. As long as I didn’t bring their name into it, was there any reason I couldn’t approach the Council directly and petition for Jackie’s release into my custody? I deserve to exact my own justice against him, don’t I?
They’ll ask too many questions, Grandfather said as I weaved through the crowds in the Terrazzano’s ballroom. They’ll want to know why you want Jackie released. What will you do with him? Where will you take him? Revealing yourself publicly can be your backup plan if this one doesn’t work.
Good, because I hate being sneaky and secretive.
I’d purposely timed my entrance so I would arrive late, long after the crowds had swelled, and I could slip into the Terrazzano’s ballroom without drawing attention. Although judging by the number of heads turning my way as I weaved through the mass of finely dressed and masked revelers, I wasn’t as inconspicuous as I’d hoped.
The hotel’s staff had transformed the space with lighting, beads, streamers, and a bit of Magic into an underwater dreamscape. Lights flickered in liquid pulses, and garland hung from the ceiling like ocean waves and seaweed. An orchestra played on a raised platform, and couples waltzed across a floor that looked like swirling sand.
“È bellissimo, no?” A short man in a dark suit with long jacket tails leaned close. He wore a grinning mask painted in black and red, matching the trim on his lapels. “Vorresti ballare?”
Before I could tell him I didn’t speak Venitzian, he’d grabbed my hand and tugged me to the dance floor. I considered using one of the techniques Niffin had taught me to free myself, but what better excuse was there for me to appear occupied while I searched the crowds for the Marenatos’ Magician?
“Non parlo Venitziano,” I told my partner as he babbled in my ear. Saying I didn’t speak Venitzian was the extent of my abilities with the local language.
He shrugged and led me into a turn.
While my feet followed the music’s rhythm, my gaze spun over the crowds, searching for anyone fitting DeLaguna’s or Taviano’s descriptions. With each twirl, I scanned the room, but instead of the Magician, another figure caught my eye. Tall, broad shouldered, wearing a deep-maroon cape and a plain white half-face mask, he stood out among the more elaborate costumes, and he watched my every move.
The stranger from last night.
The sight of him sent a familiar tingle racing over my skin. My partner turned me again, forcing me to look away. When we spun back around, the mysterious man had disappeared.
We made another revolution around the dance floor before I spotted him again at the threshold of a side entrance. He glanced over his shoulder, caught my eye, jerked his chin, and disappeared through the doorway.
My heart slammed into my throat and thumped a dizzying pace. Could it be...?
Wrenching free from my partner’s embrace, I apologized. “Sorry, I’m not feeling well.”
Ignoring his protest, I slipped between two older women at the edge of the dance floor and threaded through the crowd. The partiers seemed intent on blocking my progress, moving into my path with each step. I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to push and shove, but the last several feet to the doorway cleared, and I dashed into the hallway, gasping for breath.
My pulse pounded in my ears. Desperation burned in my stomach as I spun around, searching for another glimpse of that white mask. Farther down the hallway, an exterior door slammed shut. He must have gone outside.
I gathered my skirts and ran.
Throwing open the door, I charged into the hotel’s covered courtyard. A hard rain was falling, rattling the roof. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The space was deserted, the partygoers likely chased away by the threat of getting wet.
Where was he? Had I been seeing things? Had I gone the wrong way?
Disappointment swelled in me, acidic and harsh.
But then lightning flashed, throwing a strobe of light into a dark corner, illuminating a half-face mask and a tall, shadowy figure with strong shoulders, a firm jaw, and familiar lush lips. Tearing off my disguise, I rushed to him as he opened his arms to me.
“Gideon!”
He pulled his own mask away and answered me with a kiss. His lips on mine were like a breath of air when I’d been slowly suffocating, like the return of sunlight after months of steady rain. His arms around me, holding me tight enough to make my ribs creak, were like being home after a long and exhausting journey.
His lips brushed my cheek, my eyelids, my temple.
I touched him, running my hands over his shoulders, his chest, stroking the valley of his spine. I knotted my fingers in his short hair and kissed him again. It’s him. It’s really him.
“What—” I sucked a quick breath. “What are you doing here?”
“Watching out for you.” He nibbled my lip. “Why else?”
“How did you find me?”
“As soon as I found out what Le Poing Fermé wanted from you, I knew you’d be coming to Isolas. I’ve been watching the ports and train station for days.”
I went stiff and pulled away. “Wait... how long have you known I was here?”
“Since you stepped off the train yesterday.”
“Then why wait until now to come to me?” I punched his shoulder, and he flinched.
“Because I wanted to watch and make sure no one was tailing you. I wanted to see if anyone noticed your arrival. It’s easier to be your spy if I stay in the shadows.”
I poked his ribs, making him flinch again. “You could have snuck into my room last night instead of watching me from the street.”
He tugged me back into his arms and plucked another kiss from my lips. “Missed me, did you?”
“Gideon,” I said, my tone serious, “you’ve been with me every day. In here.” I tapped my temple. “In here.” I touched my chest over my heart. “But it’s not the same. Never knowing for sure whether you were safe and well—” My voice broke. Tears burned in the back of my throat. I swallowed, trying to maintain my composure.
“I know.” His voice was low and gruff. He dropped his chin and touched his forehead to mine. “I know, Evie. It was a little bit like torture, that uncertainty.”
I slumped against him and raised my chin, our mouths reconnecting. “Agony.”
He flicked his tongue against mine and drew away. “Torment.”
“How come, when you say it, torment doesn’t sound like such a bad thing?”
He made a hungry sound deep in his throat. “One of these days, we might find out just how right you are.”
Heat flooded through me, a tidal wave of warmth and desire. Thunder crashed. Lightning crackled, clawing across the sky. “Don’t bring the storms down on me,” he muttered against my ear.
“I don’t know... this time you might like it.” I kissed him again, and he had no more complaints about the weather.
Later, he held me against his side as we nestled together on a wicker lounger tucked in a corner, far away from the rain. “What was your plan tonight?” he asked. “You don’t get dressed up to go to balls just for the fun of it. I’m guessing it has something to do with the Marenatos.”
I huffed. He seemed to be always one step ahead of me. “How do you know about them?”
“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t.”
“I was hoping to, uh, bump into their Magician. Or his apprentice.”
“Bartolomeo DeLaguna? Or... Taviano, right? Taviano Pesce.”
I huffed again. “If you already know everything, why are you asking me questions?”
“What were you going to do when you found him?”
I fingered the gold strand around my neck. “We have a Magician now. Her name is Brigette. She worked a spell on this necklace, which is supposed to make people be truthful when they talk to me.”
“I saw you had picked up another stray.”
“She’s a lot more than that.” I explained the difficulties of her relationship with Magic and pain. “She’s controlling it for now, but she hasn’t had to work any major Magic yet. I’m afraid of what it’ll do to her if she does.”
“But she’s powerful?”
I nodded. “I really think she is. I think we were brought together for a reason. With the help of this necklace, I was hoping, maybe, to get DeLaguna or Taviano to tell me where they’re keeping Jackie and anything else that might be useful.”
“Then I guess I should stop distracting you.” He exhaled loudly and stood, tugging me to my feet. “Time for you to get back to work.” His grip on my hand tightened. “But please, be careful. This is a dangerous game you’re playing.”
I threaded my fingers through his. “Are you going to keep hiding from me?”
His dim figure ducked its head. “I’ll be watching. And I’ll find you later tonight. I promise.”
He escorted me to the door and faded into the shadows.
In the ballroom, the masquerade raged on. During my absence, many had overindulged. With their inhibitions lowered, the fine lords and ladies of Isolas had surrendered to their baser impulses. They’d given up formal dancing, and bodies writhed together, lips and fingers touching, stroking, sampling. The masks stayed on, though—that one rule remained strictly enforced. Most likely, the masks played a bigger part in the partiers’ brazen behavior than the intoxicants they’d consumed—anonymity was an alluring thing. I squashed down my dread and discomfort, adjusted my mask, and tried my best to look like I wanted to be there rather than relaxing in my room, wearing my nightgown, and tucked under the bed quilts while sipping a cup of tea.
Maybe snuggling with Gideon, too, if I were lucky.
I scanned the room, seeking DeLaguna’s horned mask, and spotted a group of young people clustered in a corner, far away from the dance floor. They exuded an air of boredom and, perhaps, embarrassment, considering many of the adults misbehaving on the dance floor were likely their parents. One young man stood out from the rest, his shock of white-blond hair fluttering around his head like clouds on a breezy day. His black mask covered his face from chin to hairline. Only two round eyeholes interrupted the smooth, featureless visage. No mouth, no nose, only a swirl of silver geometric patterns danced across his black forehead and cheeks.
I eased closer and the mask’s detailed sharpened. Seashells—starfish, scallops, seahorses, conchs—undulated and swirled, animated by Magic.
Ah, said Grandfather. You’ve found Taviano. Now what do you do with him?
Dazzle him with my feminine wiles, I guess.
Taviano had noted my interest, saving me from having to invent a reason to introduce myself. He raised his voice over the orchestra’s music. “Signora Pavone.” Lady Peacock. He bowed.
“Signore Magia.” I curtsied.
“Noi a conosciamo?”
“Susca no parlo Vinitziano.” I don’t speak Vinitzian.
“Is this better?” he asked, switching to Dreutish.
I batted my lashes. “How did you know?”
“Your accent.” He twiddled his fingers, waving aside my question. “You seemed to recognize me, but I am afraid I cannot say the same about you. Perhaps your disguise is too clever, Lady Peacock. I was asking if we know each other.”
“We don’t, Signor Pesce, but I think we have a mutual friend.”
“Oh?”
“Someone who went to university with you in Pecia.”
“My curiosity is piqued.”
“Piqued enough to join me for a dance?”
He glanced at the dance floor. Although his mask hid his expression, he exuded reluctance. “I’d... rather not.”
My plan for interrogation had hinged on luring him to the dance floor, but his refusal foiled me. Mind spinning, I searched for something clever to say.
He studied me, eyes scraping over me from head to toe, lingering on my lips, which still felt raw and bruised from kissing Gideon. “This masquerade is not our idea of a real party.” He motioned to the group of young people surrounding him. “We were about to leave. There is another affair on the other side of the city.” His attention flashed again to the crowd behind me. “It should be less...” Repugnance soured his tone. “Disconcerting.”
“You mean a party with no drunken adults forgetting how to behave in public?”
“Precisely.” He peered down his nonexistent nose. “Join us, Lady Peacock?”
Flaring my skirt, I curtsied. “I’d be honored.”
He raised a finger. “But first you must pay the price of admission.”
I’d a stashed a few coins in my pocket. Not much money, but probably more than enough to buy my way into an exclusive party, even one for Isolas’s spoiled upper-class youth. “How much?”
“I want the name of our common acquaintance.”
I bit my lip, considering. What were the possible consequences of revealing that tidbit? Would it somehow endanger Brigette or our mission? I needed to get close to Taviano. I needed more time to ask him questions, and this party would be my best, and maybe my only, opportunity to do that. Besides, parties had a way of getting people to lower their guards. So did wearing masks. So did Brigette’s Magic charm around my neck.
“Her name is Brigette,” I said. “Do you know her?”
He rocked back on his heels as if my answer had struck him. He huffed a sharp breath. “Brigette Fontaine?”
Realizing I had never heard Brigette’s surname, I shrugged.
“Of course I know her.” His nose wrinkled. “She’s impossible to forget.” He paused, head cocked at a curious angle. “What is your relationship with her? You are not a Magician, though there is certainly something... enchanting about you.”
“No, not a Magician. I’m merely a patron of the Magical arts.”
“A patron?” By his tone, he was clearly interested. At my mention of money, he was hooked. My pathway to discovering his secrets became clearer by the moment.
“Brigette provided her services, helping me prepare for this masquerade.” I motioned to my long peacock cape. “She was well worth her cost.”
“Wait... is she here? In the city?”
I rolled a shoulder. “Perhaps.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I’ve already paid your admission price, Sir Magician. If you want more from me, you’ll have to give me something worth paying for.”
He paused, shoulders stiffening. “Like what?”
Taviano’s entourage had gathered around us, and like an ocean current, they carried us in a powerful tidal wave toward the exit. I gave him a wry grin as we spilled into the hallway outside the ballroom. “Let me think about it, Signor Pesce.”
“Please, call me Taviano.”
I nodded. “Only if you call me Liesl.”
