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Taviano took my hand, and our group raced outside in an excited swarm, voices buzzing, punctuated with shouts and laughter. The rain had softened, enveloping us in a warm mist. Instead of splitting up among a collection of water taxis waiting near the Terrazzano’s dock, someone at the front of our group led us farther down the canal to an opulent barge, a floating paradise of crystal, rich hardwoods, silk, and velvet. As I climbed aboard, I glanced over my shoulder, searching for Gideon.
A tall figure in cape and hood stood half in shadows in a nearby doorway. He raised a hand and took a step back, drawing darkness around himself. He’d let me see him on purpose, allowing me to reassure myself he was following, watchful and present.
You’ll have plenty of time for him later, Grandfather said. Stay focused on your task and let him do his job.
I harrumphed. Easier said than done.
“Have a drink.” Taviano handed me a flute of something pink and bubbly. The damp air had tamed his sugar-floss hair, and rain droplets glimmered on his mask, glowing as the silvery seashell decorations spun and sparkled.
Touching the glass to my lips, I tasted berries, sunshine, and wine. On any other occasion, I might’ve drained the drink in a single gulp, but the success of the evening’s venture depended on keeping my wits sharp. Taviano slumped onto a padded bench, and when he looked away, I poured my drink overboard.
He patted the empty space beside him. “Join me, Liesl.”
I sat and swallowed my protest as he slipped his arm around my shoulder. He smelled of earth, minerals, and wine. “Relax, Lady Peacock. The real party is about to begin.”
Around the barge, young people paired off into smaller groups and couples. Someone called out what sounded like a warning, and the boat swayed and rocked as it launched, gliding toward the center of the canal. The boat’s motion rolled me into Taviano, and he took advantage, holding me closer.
If you’re watching this, Gideon, forgive me for playing along. “So...” I held Taviano’s gaze. Firelight from torches positioned around the boat flickered in his eyes and made his mask glow. “You’re a Magician for the Marenato family, right?”
He drew his fingertip up my arm, stroking me as though I were his pet. I congratulated myself for resisting the urge to cringe. “I am.”
Of course, he didn’t clarify that he was only an apprentice.
“What sort of things do you do for them?”
“Whatever the family asks of me.”
I touched his biceps. He was taller than me but not my much. Bony and angular too. Perhaps some girls preferred the lanky and aristocratic look, but I favored Gideon’s brawn and strength. “You must be very smart and powerful to serve a family like the Marenatos.” The words felt sickly sweet on my tongue. I can’t believe he’s falling for this.
Young men love to have their egos stroked by young ladies, Grandfather said. And you are especially lovely tonight.
And he is especially drunk.
The tip of Taviano’s nose brushed my ear. “It is an ideal position for a long and lucrative career.”
“Will you take the place of their current Magician when he eventually retires?”
His finger paused on my arm. He pulled away slightly. “DeLaguna is a doddering old fool. He will be retiring much sooner than he thinks.”
Someone hollered again. Our barge turned and picked up speed. A stiff breeze toyed with my curls and whipped Taviano’s bright hair about his head. The city fell away as we sailed into a wider body of water. “We’re crossing the bay?” I asked.
He nodded and leaned back, letting me peer around him as he pointed at a dark, distant shoreline. Against a cloudy night sky, the Basilica di Magia’s hulking silhouette crouched atop limestone cliffs like a giant barnacled turtle sitting on a plinth. I had studied the islet from my balcony several times and therefore knew it was encircled by a sandy beach that only appeared at low tide. Playing dumb, I blinked at him. “We’re going to the basilica?”
He snorted. “No, to the peninsula just beside it. See?” He pointed again, and the dim light of tiny distant flames flickered on a jutting promontory. We were still too far away and the night was too dark to reveal details. “There is the Gratta Regine del Mare. The Grotto of the Sea Queens.”
I tensed. “You mean...?”
“It’s a temple, a relic left from the days when the Marenatos were sea deities.”
“There aren’t many of those left,” I said.
“Who?”
“The old gods.”
“Good riddance, I say.”
My skin prickled as if lightning were drawing close. “If industry continues to develop at its current rate, Magic might soon be as obsolete as the gods.”
“That will never happen.” Taviano’s mood turned cool and distant. Maybe I should’ve worried, but instead I enjoyed the reprieve when he pulled away. He motioned for a servant to bring me another glass of wine, and he drew a pipe from an interior pocket in his coat. He snapped his fingers, and a flame lit at the tip of his thumb and forefinger. He touched the light to his pipe bowl and puffed until the contents glowed.
Mordid, judging by the burnt syrupy smell. I tried not to let my distaste show on my face.
He pointed the pipe stem at me, gesturing for me to take a puff. Waving him away, I shook my head. “No thanks. I’ll stick to wine.”
He shrugged and sucked in another lungful of smoke.
I glanced behind us, searching for a sign of Gideon. Had he managed to find a taxi willing to pilot him this far into the bay? Without more moonlight, it was impossible to tell.
We completed our voyage in silence while Taviano puffed on his pipe. The barge shuddered as it slid across a sandy bottom and stopped. Another elegant but empty barge had already beached nearby, suggesting the party had started without us. A tall boy wearing a horse mask raised his wine glass and whooped. Crying out in Vinitzian, his companions responded, and the group rushed to disembark, splashing over the barge’s sides. Most had removed their shoes and slogged through the calf-high water without a care for their cuffs and hems. Slow to follow, I kicked off my slippers and bundled my skirt into my arms, holding my hems as high. I eased into the water, leaving Taviano still lounging on his bench, finishing his pipe.
If he didn’t join the rest of us soon, I’d backtrack and try to get him talking again, but my curiosity about the Sea Goddesses’ temple refused to be ignored. How could I come all the way to Vinitzia without seeing the worship place of a former elemental deity? It would’ve been like passing through the graveyard at Fallstaff without paying a visit to my ancestors’ tombs.
I’d descended from a different lineage than the Sea Goddesses, but we were family in a way. Thousands of years before, all of us had once shared the same creator father. As I strode onto the pebbled shore, a feeling of welcome enveloped me.
“Hello, aunties,” I whispered.
Lit torches guided us farther inland. I followed at a distance, apprehensive about what I might stumble upon. As I rounded a tall sand dune, more torchlight spilled upon a pathway threading through a wide entrance in a circular wall made of coral and seashells. The wall served as a perimeter barrier around a sunken amphitheater. Broad steps ascended several yards down to a rounded arena paved in more stone and shells.
As I’d suspected, an additional group of young people had arrived before us and lit the torches blazing throughout the grotto. Bits of glass and nacre from shells embedded in the walls and flooring glittered like gems. Opposite the amphitheater’s entrance, the arching entryway of a tall man-made cave beckoned.
The party raged around me, young people laughing, drinking, smoking, kissing and touching as a quintet played upbeat music. I tuned it out as I slipped down the steps, crossed the arena floor, and stepped into the grotto’s shadows. Rough-hewn walls and columns lit by flaming tapers guided me along a mazelike path that swallowed sounds from outside, leaving me in silence and gloom.
The route ended in an echoing cavern where candles flickered in votives positioned at the foot of a sparkling mural. Bits of glass, pottery, and shells formed an iridescent image of a woman rising from spewing waters, long hair swirling about her like seaweed. Hands open with palms facing up at her side, she greeted worshipers with a meek, motherly smile.
A warm hand pressed against the small of my back. I yelped as Taviano slid close, putting his lips near my ear. “La Madre del Mare.” He reeked of mordid and wine. He slurred as he spoke, his words heavy with his Vinitzian accent. “Her name was Hadria Marenato, the first goddess to rule Venitizia from her throne, here, in Isolas.”
“I didn’t hear you sneaking up behind me,” I said. “You move like a ghost.”
He chuckled low in his throat and waggled his fingers. “Or like Magic.”
I folded my arms across my chest, warding off the cavern’s chill air. “The Marenatos aren’t gods anymore, but they’re still pretty powerful.”
“Indeed.”
“And so are their Magicians.”
He rolled his shoulders in an oblique gesture that sent him weaving, tottering on unsteady, drunken feet.
“When the seat of Magical authority is in the same city, I can’t imagine the Marenatos’ Magicians wouldn’t have some notable influence.”
“What are you talking about?”
No more evasive tiptoeing. Time to get to the point. “The Council of Magic.”
He froze, head cocked to the side. “What do you know about them?”
“Nothing.” And that was the truth. “Only that they exist, and they keep their headquarters in that old basilica.”
“Why mention them, then?”
I traced the silver stitching in his coat’s lapel. “I wondered if you were on the Council.”
He snorted but bowed his head slightly, curling himself around me. His hand slid over my hip. I swallowed my disgust and played along.
“Are you some kind of Magical soldier?” I asked. “Enforcing the laws and arresting those who break the rules?” I stroked his lapel again. “Is there a prison for bad Magicians? A dungeon, perhaps?”
“There is, actually.” His voice was low and growly, his words difficult to understand. “The island is mostly limestone riddled with caverns.” He tossed out a hand, motioning to our surroundings. “Not manmade like this. The Council keeps its worst offenders imprisoned there, in those caverns under the basilica.”
That tidbit of information was extremely useful, but I needed more. “Anyone I would have heard of?”
His head tilted. “How do I know who you have heard of? I do not even know who you really are, Lady Pea-cock.” He chuckled, obviously finding his lewdness clever.
“I told you. My name is Liesl.”
“Liesl who?”
I considered the possibilities. Should I stick to total anonymity or attach myself to someone who might increase my appeal? And why didn’t I figure this out earlier? Swallowing, I settled on an answer: “Liesl Daeg Faust.” Not a total lie—the Daegs were distant cousins, after all, and I didn’t feel guilty for using his name to get what I needed. Daeg owed me much more than this small favor. “My mother was Aeolus Daeg’s sister.”
He inhaled a sharp breath. “Enson Graves was several years ahead of me at university. Do you know him?”
“Daeg’s Magician? Eyes like a wolf? Yes, I know him.” I let my lip curl, playing on the note of distaste I heard in Taviano’s voice when he’d said Enson’s name. “Didn’t much care for him. He was, however, the one who mentioned the Council of Magic to me.” I lowered my voice and put my lips to Taviano’s ear. “He told me the Council had imprisoned a member of...” Hesitating, as if afraid to speak the name and give it power, I whispered the rest. “Le Poing Fermé.”
He jerked back and wavered as he sought his balance. He was so intoxicated, I wondered how he managed to stay upright. “How would Enson know such a thing?” he asked.
“Daeg has spies everywhere.”
“And you are one of them?”
Taking on a haughty tone, I said, “Not a spy. A benefactor. Brigette has served me for now, but who’s to say I’m not looking for someone worthier of my family’s patronage?”
“And you are interested in hiring a member of Le Poing Fermé?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I walked a wide circle, feigning interest in the cavern’s construction. The walls were made of crushed shells and sand, rough and clumpy like something an enthusiastic child might have made during a holiday visit to a sandy seashore. Yet somehow it befitted the Queen of the Sea. “I’m interested in hiring the Magician who was strong enough to imprison a member of Le Poing Fermé. If that rumor is true.”
“Oh, it is true.” He teetered toward me, hair fluttering like dandelion fluff.
I danced away, laughing, hoping it seemed like flirtatious teasing rather than my efforts to keep away from his overly familiar hands. “If it’s true, then tell me the criminal’s name.”
“His name is....” He scratched his chin beneath his mask, cursed, then tore the mask off and threw it across the room, panting as if unable to catch his breath. Narrow chin, hollow cheeks, long nose—Taviano Pesce was nothing much to look at, but something powerful glowed in the depths of his eyes. He tottered toward me again, each step more unsteady than the last. Several feet away, he paused and swayed. “Si chiama... Jonathan Faercourt.”
As if he’d been holding onto consciousness only to answer that question, he promptly fainted, eyes rolling back in his head. He slumped to the floor and coughed a ragged snore.
I edged closer, drawing back my skirts in case he woke and tried to snatch me. “Some Magician.” I snorted. “Can’t even hold your wine.”
Eager to escape his company, I scurried through the cavern and exited into the damp evening air. The music had turned sultry and somber. Like the calm at the end of a hurricane, the party’s kinetic energy had bled away. I kept my attention focused on the pathway, ignoring how the gathering had become something more hedonistic and sexual.
“Hypocrites,” I muttered as I stalked up the stairs and strode through the exit. “Bunch of self-indulgent lushes, just like the parents you’re all so ashamed of.”
Stalking along the sandy path, I searched the beach for a sign of Gideon. Please let him be here. If I have to spend one more minute in this place, I might try swimming back to the hotel.
A spark flared, then a torch waved like a signaling beacon. Kicking up my pace, I tore off my mask and raced toward the flame. Gideon had removed his own mask and cloak, and at some point, he’d strapped on the holster he’d specifically designed for carrying his crossbow at his back. It also acted as a bandolier, keeping an extra supply of ammunition close at hand. He pointed at a narrow water taxi beached beside him. “Need a ride, my lady?”
“How’d you get the boat?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, he glanced away. “I, uh, borrowed it.”
“I don’t care if you stole it from the Contessa of Isolas herself.” Grunting, I helped him shove the boat into the water. “If you can get us back to the Terrazzano without drowning, you’ll be my hero.”
He grasped my elbow, holding me steady as I climbed into the rocking boat. After passing me his torch, he scrambled in behind me, taking the pilot’s position at the stern. “You don’t have to sweet-talk me, Evie.” He winked as he shoved his paddle into the water and pushed us away from the beach. “We both know I’m already your hero.”
He paddled us farther into deep waters, bow pointed toward the heart of the city.
“Paddling across the bay seems like hard work,” I said.
“You think I’m not up to it?”
“I didn’t say that.” I glanced back at the basilica’s dark, hunkering outline. “But what if we start with a shorter trip first?”
He pulled his paddle up, letting us drift. He followed my gaze. “I take it you learned something useful from the Magic brat.”
“The Council has Jackie. They’re keeping him imprisoned in caverns beneath the basilica.”
Gideon’s eyebrows arched high. “You want to trying breaking him out now?”
“No. I want to do some reconnaissance while the tide is low.”
“Why does the tide matter?”
“There are caves all over Inselgrau’s coastline... some not too far away from Fallstaff. Some of those caves have entries that are only visible when the tide is all the way out. I wonder if the basilica’s island is the same.”
“Surely the Council of Magic would know about any exterior entrances and keep them well guarded.”
“I think you’re right, but it wouldn’t hurt to look.” I squinted, as if that could help me see better in the dark. “I should’ve asked Brigette for a night vision spell.”
Gideon stepped down from his platform, crouching as he worked his way closer to me, and sat on the seat across from mine. He took both of my hands in his and kissed my knuckles. “I admire your passion and how, despite the very late hour and the fact you’re wearing a ball gown with who-knows-how-many layers of petticoats and whatnots, you’re determined to reconnoiter the Council of Magic’s very private and very guarded island on a dark and cloudy night.”
I bit my lip. “But you’re also wondering if I haven’t lost my mind.”
“I didn’t say that.” A smile played at the corner of his mouth.
“That was pretty subtle of you. I’m used to you being a little more direct and dictatorial.”
He said nothing but ducked his head and looked up at me through his lashes. He almost always got his way when he looked at me like that.
“You’re right,” I said with a huff, remembering my vow to take his counsel more often. “This little boat is no match for the currents on the ocean side of that island, and it’s too late and too dark, and we’re too defenseless to approach the basilica now. I’d like to come back tomorrow night, however.”
He nodded. “We’ll be better prepared.”
“And we’ll bring Brigette.”
***
I expected everyone to be in bed when Gideon and I finally made our way back to the Terrazzano. What I hadn’t expected was to walk into a room filled with blue haze that smelled of sweet, burning flowers.
“Mordid,” Gideon spat.
“Dammit, Brigette.”
I strode over to the girl passed out on our couch. When I yanked the pipe from her fingers, her eyelashes fluttered, and she grunted a feeble protest.
“I thought you were done with this.”
She snorted, and a lazy smile swam across her face. “Why would I?”
“Because it’ll ruin you someday.”
“My problem.” She had lost her spectacles, and she squinted one eye at me. “Not yours.”
“It is my problem if you’re too incapacitated to help when I need you.”
She flapped her hand at me. “I helped already. Now go away.”
Gideon squeezed my shoulder. “There’s no point arguing when she’s like this. Let her be.”
“What a way to make a first impression,” I muttered as Gideon guided me into my bedroom.
He grabbed my dressing gown from the foot of my bed and handed it to me. His warm fingers traced a path from the nape of my neck down my spine and back up, settling on the top button at the back of my dress. His touch roused goose bumps along my arms and shoulders and dispelled my worries about Brigette’s reliability. There would be time to fret about her later but not while I had Gideon all to myself for the first time in weeks.
He took his time unfastening my buttons. His fingers strayed often. So did his lips. My hands trembled as I slipped into the dressing gown, knotted the belt around my waist, and let my dress fall in a puddle of blue satin at my feet. I turned and faced him, and he wrapped his arms around me. Tugging me close, he buried his face in my neck and nipped me. I squealed and pulled away then crossed to the bed. Sitting, I folded my feet beneath me.
He dropped into a chair near the balcony doors, leaned back, and rubbed his eyes. He looked exhausted, but knowing him, I knew he’d never admit it.
“Nothing about freeing Jackie was ever going to be easy,” I said. “But at least we know we’re in the right place if we move forward on this.”
“If?” Gideon arched an eyebrow. “Are there alternatives?”
“We could still forget about Jackie and march on Le Poing Fermé at Inselgrau.” I snorted. “Me, you, Niffin, Malita, and Brigette will storm the halls of Fallstaff—” I paused and furrowed my brow. “If any of Fallstaff remains, that is.”
“Thibodaux and his cronies restored it. Fallstaff looks like it was never attacked in the first place.”
My heart climbed into my throat. “Y-You’ve seen it.”
He nodded.
“And Thibodaux and the rest of Le Poing Fermé are actually living there?”
“For the time being. At least until we take it back.”
I let my emotions—anxiety, longing, anger, fear, homesickness—out in a loud puff of breath. “It seems so impossible.”
“The people of Inselgrau are disgruntled, Evie.” Gideon leaned over and went to work on his bootlaces. “They’re afraid of Thibodaux and his thugs, but they’re eager to see them cast out. There are more believers there than you know, and a group of them are working to keep your name alive. Your reputation has grown in your absence—it’s almost cultlike, the devotion. You wouldn’t believe the stories they tell about you. There’s one about you and a dragon—” He stopped and snorted. “That’s what we need to tap into. That kind of faith...” He shook his head, and his expression turned dark. “Your power would be immeasurable.”
“Don’t say it like that.” I went to him and knelt at his feet. Smacking his hands away, I finished untying his laces and slipped off one boot. “I’m just me. I’ll always be just me.”
He set one of his big hands over mine as I reached for his other boot. “You’re a queen, Evie. A daughter of gods. You’re not just anything.”
I forced a smile and tugged off his other boot. “Then you’ll be there to keep me grounded.”
“What if that’s not the best thing for you?” He slid from the chair and sat on the floor before me so that we were eye to eye. “I’m here to protect you, not to hold you back from achieving your potential.”
“Gideon, I—”
He pressed a finger to my lips, silencing me. “I know where I come from. I know where you come from. Don’t think I’m not aware of the disparities between us.”
I pulled away, frowning. Anger warmed my cheeks. “Do you think that matters to me? Royal blood or peasant? Whatever gave you the idea that I give a damn about class or rank—particularly when it comes to personal relationships?”
“I know you don’t, but maybe you should. When you take that throne, there will be much more to think about than what you or I want. You have the needs of a country to consider, and you’ll have to do what’s best for your people. I won’t stand in your way.”
“You won’t stand in my way? I was just standing in your arms, and during all those days you were gone, that’s the only place I really wanted to be. Even more than I wanted to be back home on Inselgrau.”
A pained look crossed his face. He opened his mouth, probably to protest.
I mimicked his earlier gesture and pressed my finger to his lips, silencing him. “Maybe you doubt yourself sometimes. I do, too, because that’s what it means to be human. I assure you, Gideon Faust, that while my heart may be made of iron, I am not a machine. Don’t expect me to ever act like one.”
I climbed to my feet and backed away. “For now the plan stands as it is. We get Jackie out of the Basilica di Magia. We’ll worry about what comes next after that. How do you feel about underwater cave diving at night?”
He stood and stretched. His back popped. “Is that really your plan?”
“I’m not sure.” I searched the desk in my room and found a bit of parchment, a jar of ink, and a fountain pen. “But that’s what we’ll find out tomorrow night. I’ll make a list of supplies for Niffin to gather for us tomorrow morning. If you think of anything you need, add it to the list.”
“What about me? What can I do?”
I squinted at him. “When was the last time you got a full night’s rest?”
His gaze drifted upward as he seemed to be searching his memory for an answer.
“Not recently enough, apparently.” I set one hand on my hip and pointed at the bed. “Get some sleep. I need you sharp and focused tomorrow night.”
“I don’t need sleep for that.” He scowled.
I bit back a retort and, instead, offered a gentle smile. “I admire your passion and how, despite the fact you’re probably exhausted and haven’t slept for more than a couple of hours at a time over the past few months, you’re determined to reconnoiter the Council of Magic’s very private and very guarded island.”
“Using my own words against me?” He ducked his chin and grinned. “Smart.”
“Go to bed. Please?”
He rubbed his eyes and gave me a bleary look. My heart went out to him. He’s run himself ragged for me. How can I repay all his sacrifices?
Your grandmother loved me like that, Grandfather said. All she ever asked was that I love her in return. And I did. I gave her my all.
“Only if you promise to get some rest too,” Gideon said.
I nodded. “I’ll will. I promise.”
After he lay down, I tiptoed to the balcony outside my room but paused when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass doors. A nest of frizzy curls framed my pale and gaunt face. This whole affair had taken a toll on Gideon and me both. Things would likely only get worse before they got better. If they got better at all.
Later, when I’d had enough wind and humid air, I came inside and found Gideon lying on top of the bed covers, passed out on his stomach. His breathing was heavy and steady, the breath of a person who’d fully surrendered to sleep. The urge to touch him, stroke the loose lock of hair off his brow, burned in my fingertips, but I resisted, not wanting to wake him.
Curling up next to him, I listened to him breathe, and the sound of it was my favorite lullaby.
