The King's Seal

by Amy Kuivalainen

  BY THE time Penelope arrived in Split, she had shelved her worry for Marco and was focused on the growing tension in the magicians around her. Phaidros was pretending he wasn’t bothered by Aelia’s dangerously skimpy purple playsuit. Meanwhile, Aelia was distracted and kept checking her hair and makeup, and Penelope had to loosen Alexis’s grip on her hand more than once.

  Penelope had been on many boats in her life, but none that were driven by a pissed-off magician. Earlier, she’d wondered why they hadn’t hired a car in Split and driven down the coast to a ferry. She should’ve guessed it had something to do with speed limits.

  Phaidros’s magic was largely energy manipulation, and while Penelope had seen him use it on people before, she’d never experienced the effect it could have on machinery. The air around Phaidros hummed with power. Alexis positioned himself at Penelope’s back and instructed her to hang on to a safety bar at the front of the boat.

  Once they cleared the harbor, the tightly bound magic fled Phaidros and flowed through the boat’s engine and circuitry. Penelope tightened her grip as they surged forward with a burst of speed. Sitting in the back of the boat, Aelia’s wild bronze curls streamed behind her as she tilted her head back and laughed. Phaidros glanced at her in his rearview mirror, and his lips twitched in a half-smile.

  Penelope closed her eyes and let the salty wind blow away all the fog and anxiety that had been threatening to overwhelm her. She could feel the water around them in a way she never had before, as well as the teeming life it contained. She remembered Elazar’s story: Nereus meeting Poseidon while he was standing in the sea doing magic. Could this sudden awareness of the sea be an ability he had passed on to her?

  A trip that would’ve taken them three hours by land barely took an hour with Phaidros at the wheel of the boat. The Franciscan Monastery on the island of Badija was a set of sprawling Gothic-Renaissance buildings surrounded by tall pine and oak trees.

  “Can you tell if Constantine is in there?” Penelope asked Alexis as they docked the boat.

  “Not yet. If he’s not, I’m sure someone will know where he’s hiding. If they don’t, we can try tracking him with magic. He’s got a unique signature that will make tracking easier.”

  Phaidros huffed. “Everyone’s energy signature is.”

  “But not everyone is immortal,” Aelia said. “Even you have to admit that Constantine is unique.”

  “If by ‘unique’ you mean ‘a cursed asshole,’ then yes, he is unique.”

  “You shouldn’t have come,” Aelia snapped.

  “Back at you, Princess.”

  Penelope took Alexis’s hand. “Let’s go talk to some of the priests. You two can wait here. We don’t need your glowering”—she glared at Phaidros—“or your hemline”—she nodded at Aelia—“frightening anyone away.”

  Alexis made their inquiries in fluent Croatian while Penelope smiled politely and marveled at the architecture.

  Soon, they turned and made their way back out into the afternoon sunshine. As they did, Alexis said, “He’s not staying in the monastery, but he’s close.”

  Phaidros and Aelia were looking at their phones, ignoring each other like sullen teenagers.

  “Are you sure we can’t just leave them?” Penelope rolled her eyes, and Alexis gave her a grin they couldn’t see.

  “We need to walk the rest of the way.” He passed Penelope her battered khaki backpack. Just like before her trip to Israel, before their departure this morning, Penelope had found that the palazzo had packed for her. She hadn’t run out of underwear last time, so this time, she’d simply slung the bag over her shoulder and headed out.

  Following the instructions given to them by the helpful priest, they followed a neatly trimmed path of white gravel that wended through the gardens and into the trees behind the monastery grounds.

  A villa made of brown-and-white stone rose up through a grove of olive and fruit trees. The villa was a converted church, with arched, stained glass windows and facades decorated with the occasional fantastical beast or gargoyle. A large deck made of polished cyprus pine overlooked the water, and steps led down to a pebbled beach.

  The ironbound, carved wooden door opened, and a man stepped out. He looked them over with sharp, blue-gray eyes, then folded his arms over his broad chest. He looked about thirty years younger than the memory Penelope had seen of him. His curly hair and clipped beard were now dark instead of gray, and there were fewer lines around his eyes. Despite that, his bearing and frown were unmistakable.

  Constantine.

  They all remained locked in a silent stare-off until Alexis stepped forward and held out his hand.

  “Quid agis?”

  “Surprised to find magicians on my doorstep,” said Constantine.

  Alexis’s smile was mocking. “Why? Have you stopped believing in miracles?”

  “Only when you are involved, Alecto.” Constantine grabbed Alexis’s hand and pulled him into an embrace, giving his back a hard thump. “It is good to see you, brother.”

  Alexis let him go. “We have a lot to discuss.”

  “I can see that.” Constantine’s gaze lingered on Penelope before resting on Aelia. “Hello, my love. Come to destroy another one of my cars?”

  “I don’t know. Have you got any nearby?”

  Constantine’s serious expression broke into a massive grin, and he opened his arms. Aelia all but flew into them, and he picked her up and spun her off the ground.

  “Why didn’t you call me, you stubborn bastard?”

  “I got the impression you needed some space,” he said soundly before putting her down. “I see you’ve brought your bodyguard with you.”

  Phaidros rolled his eyes. “You don’t know Aelia as well as you think if you believe she needs a bodyguard.”

  “If you don’t believe it, why are you here, Phaidros?”

  “I came to see if a thousand years made you less of a prick.”

  “They didn’t seem to do you much good.” Constantine turned his back to him and took two steps toward Penelope, looking her over. “And who might you be?”

  “Doctor Penelope Bryne,” she answered, refusing to look away, even under the intensity of his inspection.

  “And what is your profession, Penelope?”

  “Archaeologist with historian tendencies.”

  “Excellent. How did you fall into such bad company?”

  “A long story. Alexis was going to kill me.”

  Constantine’s dark eyebrows rose. “Is that so? In my experience, when the Defender wants someone dead, they usually end up as such. How did you survive?”

  “I frustrated him so much that he fell in love with me.”

  Constantine tipped his head back and laughed loud enough to scare the birds out of the trees. “I like this one, Alecto. I’m tempted to fall in love with her already.”

  “Try it, and I’ll put your immortality to the test,” Alexis said, his tone frigid.

  Constantine clucked his tongue. “You still have no sense of humor.” Constantine held his arm out to Penelope. “Come with me, Penelope. I wish to hear your story first, and then we will get to the matter of what you want.”

  “What makes you think I want anything?” Penelope rested her hand on his arm with a sweet smile.

  “Well, Alecto wants something. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here with his charming new consort to distract me and Aelia to sweeten my temper. Phaidros has simply followed Aelia because it’s his life’s purpose.”

  “Con!” Aelia’s face went scarlet.

  “What? I didn’t say that I wasn’t happy to see you all. Even Phaidros’s glare is a welcome sight after so long.” Constantine turned back to Penelope. “Beer?”

  Penelope had never seen anyone but Nereus manage the magicians so efficiently. Far sooner than expected, she found herself warming up to the handsome emperor. “Yes, please. A beer would be perfect.”

  “Excellent. I brew my own using a wonderful recipe taught to me by a Trappist monk
in 1685.”

  Penelope glanced back at Alexis, who gave her a nod of encouragement.

  “There are spare rooms if you intend to stay the night,” Constantine said over his shoulder, then he led Penelope into the cool shade of the house. “Don’t worry about them, Penelope. They’ll find their rooms, and Alecto will check the perimeter to make sure there are no deranged monks or tourists ready to jump out and attack you.”

  “You tease, but it’s happened more than once in recent—” Penelope stopped in her tracks, her jaw dropping in surprise.

  Constantine had led her into a hall that had once been the main church, complete with stone pillars to hold up the arched roof. It had been whitewashed, with exposed beams of polished wood, and the stone floor had been covered with Persian carpets. Couches, tables, and wooden shelves stacked with books lined the walls.

  What had struck her dumb, though, was the blaze of color and light produced by the afternoon sun streaming through the stained glass windows. The whole room was illuminated and multicolored. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the rainbow of images: lush gardens; mythological creatures; and animals of every sort; long-faced saints; boats on stormy oceans; stars and magi; terrifying angels with flaming swords, all surrounding a magnificent Christ in red-and-purple robes, arms wide as if the beautiful chaos flowed from him.

  At least he’s not a white guy. Penelope smiled approvingly.

  “You arrived at just the right moment, my dear. This is when it’s at its most magnificent.” Constantine’s voice was soft, his eyes turned upward.

  Penelope spun slowly to admire the craftsmanship, and it took a few moments to realize what made it different from many of the church windows she’d seen before. “There’s no Crucifixion. I thought you Catholics weren’t happy unless there was something painful to look at.”

  “It’s true. There has always been an awful preoccupation with the brutality of the sacrifice, which takes away from the entire point of the event itself.”

  “And that is?”

  Constantine looked pointedly at the glorious imagery around him. “Life is the point of it all, Penelope. Mankind focuses on the murder but not the miracle because it’s the part of the story they can truly understand; it requires nothing of them. That Christ died isn’t the wonder of the story. People die horribly and alone every day. He defeated death and was seen teaching by hundreds of people after the Crucifixion—that is the wonder, and the meaning of it is what people fear the most. Always, always focus on life, Penelope. It is an ever-unfolding miracle.” The passion in his voice was nearly as brilliant as the art around them, and now Penelope’s eyes were glued to him instead. Constantine draped an arm around her shoulders. “Come, I promised you a beer.”

  “That’s a good idea, or I’m going to start ogling other things in this room, and we’ll never make it out. It’s an occupational hazard.”

  “Once you have your beer, you’re welcome to look at anything in this house.”

  “Thank you. I promise not to touch.”

  “Why would you promise such a ridiculous thing? Touch whatever you like.” He gave her a charming smile, then led her into a modern kitchen with a wide window that looked out over the ocean.

  “Zo would love this,” she said, admiring the view.

  Constantine took tall glasses down from a cupboard. “Where is Zotikos? I would’ve loved to see him. He always gives such brilliant insight into problems I’m having with my writing.”

  “He couldn’t come. We didn’t want to leave the palazzo and my Archives unprotected.”

  Constantine cocked his head. “Your Archives? Where is Nereus?”

  “She was murdered,” Alexis said from the doorway.

  Constantine went pale and gripped the edge of the countertop. He questioned Alexis in Latin, the conversation moving back and forth so rapidly Penelope didn’t have a hope of following it. And she didn’t need to. The emotion between the two men was telling enough. Phaidros and Aelia joined them mid-conversation but didn’t interrupt.

  Finally, Alexis moved Constantine out of the way, then took a few bottles of beer from the fridge and poured them into glasses.

  Constantine exhaled a long breath. “Dear Nereus. This is a blow.”

  “She never liked you,” Phaidros said.

  “Yes, she did. She may have chastised me for being too ambitious for my own good, but she always answered my emails.”

  “You were emailing her?” Alexis’s eyes widened in surprise.

  Constantine took one of the beers. “Of course I was. Just because you don’t know how to reply to a letter doesn’t mean she didn’t.” He opened a set of glass doors and headed out onto the deck.

  Penelope moved so she could brush gently against Alexis. “Are you okay?”

  “I will be. Now that I’m here, I’m strangely pleased to see him.”

  “I was alone with him for ten minutes, and I can already see why you were such good friends.” Penelope rested a hand on his back as she took a glass of beer for herself. “You are both deep-thinking, enigmatic warrior types.”

  Alexis’s smile was affectionate. “Is that so?”

  “Stop making the Defender look like that. It grosses me out to see him so soft.” Phaidros reached over the bench to grab the last two beers. He gave one to Aelia, and they followed Constantine outside.

  “I suppose we should go and make sure the peace is kept.”

  “Constantine is more than capable of handling Phaidros.” Alexis leaned down and rested his forehead against hers. “I love that you are so natural at this. You aren’t intimidated, and you can hold your own in the strange situations I keep putting you in.”

  “Someone very recently said that life is an ever-unfolding miracle, and I think it explains living with you perfectly.”

  “Ah, I see Constantine has been teaching you his theology already.”

  “He has, and he makes a valid point.” Penelope tilted her head to the side and kissed him. “We better not keep them waiting.”

  Alexis ran his thumb over her lip and finally nodded. “A good idea. I find you far too distracting.”

  Outside, Constantine, Aelia, and Phaidros sat in deck chairs, watching the waves. Aelia was speaking softly of Nereus and the attack on the palazzo.

  “I saw news footage of Duilio’s death and the bombing. I should’ve known that you were involved.” Constantine gestured to Penelope. “Come and sit beside me, Archivist. I want you to tell me all about how a mortal became Nereus’s chosen one.”

  “Only if you tell me how you’re still alive.”

  “Deal.” Constantine held out his hand. It was large enough that it swallowed hers and rough with callouses in the usual spots for regular sword training—the same as Alexis’s.

  Aelia groaned. “This is going to take hours. I’m going for a walk to watch the sunset, where I don’t have to listen to conversation about the damned priests of Thevetat.”

  “Good idea, my dear.” Constantine waved her on. “Take Phaidros with you, and let the monastery kitchen know that I’ll have guests for dinner tonight.”

  Phaidros looked at him and scoffed. “You still don’t know how to cook for yourself? Unbelievable.”

  “I don’t cook when I’ve provided the monastery fish from my day’s catch. They offer to cook it for me. Honestly, Phaidros, you’re as critical as ever.”

  “Only because I know what you’re really like, little emperor.” Without waiting for a reply, Phaidros followed Aelia.

  “Alecto, why did you bring him knowing he’d be so disagreeable?”

  Alexis’s eyes flashed with amusement. “He didn’t want to stay behind and leave Aelia to be caught in your wicked web again.”

  “My wicked web? Does he know her at all? Clearly, he’s only ever listened to her account of our affairs.”

  “You use each other and have always done so. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

  Constantine ignored him and turned back to Penelope. “You are a beautiful bl
oom amongst these thorny immortals. Tell me your tale, lovely Penelope, and make sure you leave in all the sex and violence.”

  DESPITE CONSTANTINE’S urgings, Penelope left in the violence but none of the sex, her magic, or the literal contents of the Dead Sea prophecy. Constantine seemed to know when she was skipping over parts, based on his teasing side-eyed glances in Alexis’s direction, and she did her best not to blush.

  “Your demon worshippers are back after all this time. No wonder Aelia is so subdued,” said Constantine. Subdued wasn’t a word that Penelope would ever use to describe Aelia.

  Perhaps you need to pay better attention, Bryne. They’d all been upset since Nereus’s death and the trip to Israel, and Penelope had been too focused on her own grief to see anyone else’s suffering.

  “We are all wary,” said Alexis. “I thought they were dead. They’ve managed to hide from me, and that is no easy feat.”

  “They have played a very long game, Alecto. They will continue to outmaneuver you because they’ve had so long to prepare. They first struck at your heart—Venice—and then Nereus, to disable you, to make you emotional.”

  Penelope bristled. “You sound like you admire them.”

  “Don’t confuse admiration with acknowledgment of a well-played move. It’s what I would’ve done. Penelope got away from them and ruined their plan to kill her. Now they know she is a weakness of yours, Alecto. They know the more upset she is, the more distracted you will be, and they killed her friend to make sure of it. Even with Tim’s involvement at the Dead Sea, his true value was in being close to Penelope. They will do it to all of your allies. I would make provisions for your inspector’s family if he is so determined to help you.”

  “Zo is watching over them, and the priests of Thevetat have been rooted out of Venice,” Alexis said.

  “You need to make a plan and stop being on the defensive all the time. Thevetat will do his best to keep you looking the wrong way if you keep running after every disaster.”

  Aelia and Phaidros arrived with trays of food, and they discussed Lyca and Galenos’s plan to cut off Abaddon’s resources. Penelope remained watchful, listening to the others talk and interact with each other. As long as they weren’t discussing personal history, the peace prevailed, and the sarcastic comments were kept to a minimum.