The King's Seal

by Amy Kuivalainen

  They all climbed into the boat, and Lyca steered it out into the canals, silver eyes still glaring at the flash of cameras.

  “Thank you for coming tonight,” Penelope said to Marco over the rumbling engine.

  “It’s going to be okay. You know that, don’t you? The public will settle down, and you won’t have to fear leaving the palazzo.”

  She attempted a smile. “What’s one more scandal in my illustrious career of scandals?”

  When they arrived back at the palazzo, Marco waved them on as he secured the boat. He stepped through the blue door moments after them but didn’t end up in the usual entry foyer. Penelope and the others were gone, and he was in a carpeted hall with gilt-framed mirrors on either side. By now, Marco knew the palazzo liked to shift around, but it had never placed him somewhere completely unfamiliar before.

  “Hello?” he whispered, walking slowly toward a cream-and-gold door.

  It opened with an angry yank, and there was Aelia, her face a tear-streaked mask of fury. The snarl on her lips died when she saw him. “Marco?” she said, then promptly collapsed in his arms.

  “La Dia, what’s wrong?” It was odd to see the impossibly confident woman upset about anything.

  She let him go just as suddenly as she’d fallen into him and waved him inside. “I need another martini.”

  “Will you make me one too? It’s been quite the evening.”

  “Of course, amico. I don’t plan on drinking by myself.”

  Marco had never been in Aelia’s wing of the palazzo. It was as chaotically beautiful as she was. Elaborate Murano glass chandeliers and a scattering of candles lit the room, and instruments from a variety of cultures and eras were scattered about. Expensive sound system equipment was set up in the middle of the room. The polished gladiuses she favored hung along one wall, and along others were portraits of herself done in a variety of styles. Brocaded cushions were tossed in piles, and stacks of jewelry and high heels were haphazardly abandoned.

  “One olive or two?” Aelia asked from an antique sideboard covered in bottles, shakers, and used martini glasses.

  “Two.” Marco sat down on a chaise lounge, careful to avoid stepping on any of the sheet music arranged across the Persian carpet.

  Aelia passed him his glass and sat beside him, then took his hand as if she needed reassurance.

  “Tell me about your tears. Do I need to hit Phaidros where it hurts?” he asked.

  “Those bastards burned my lovely villa, Marco. They murdered the kindest woman you could imagine.” Her tears welled again.

  He passed her his clean handkerchief, and she dabbed at her smeared mascara. “I’m sorry to hear that. Did she have any family?”

  Aelia shook her head. “No. Only me. I’ve known her since she was a little girl. They killed her to hurt me, to lure me out so Thevetat could kill me too.”

  “Praise the saints he didn’t get you.” Marco drank a large mouthful of his strong martini.

  “That’s the problem. He did have me. Kreios was there, and…and he let me go.” A sob escaped her trembling lips. “Oh gods, Marco, that man has haunted my nightmares for so long. I didn’t want to believe Penelope when she said he was trying to help us. Before Abaddon got to him, Kreios was one of the eligible kings my father was pushing me to marry. I liked him when we first met. He was charming and serious and handsome. The next time I saw him, he was standing over me with a blade, ready and eager to carve sigils into my flesh.”

  Marco placed his arm around her shaking shoulders. “I met him only for a few moments, and it was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. I can’t imagine what you went through, amica.”

  “He had me tonight, and I froze. All my years of training meant nothing. He had a blade to my throat, and I was paralyzed by fear.”

  “You still got away from him, Aelia.”

  “Only because Kreios fought Thevetat’s influence over him. He fought Thevetat so he could release me. For a moment, I saw a flash of that man I first met. I could see his humanity.” She pushed a hand through her hair. “He’s completely blown his cover with Thevetat. He’s probably getting cut to pieces right now because of me. Do you know how much I hate this feeling? This guilt? My nightmare has now saved my life. What am I meant to do now?”

  “You do as you planned: kill Abaddon and Thevetat. If Kreios doesn’t survive his punishment, at least he did one good thing to atone for his crimes against you. You shouldn’t feel guilty about that. You’re here now because of him. You’re beautiful and powerful and terrifying, and you’ll get your revenge, Dia. Kreios has given you the chance to destroy them; don’t waste it.”

  Aelia’s violet eyes widened, and she leaned forward and kissed him.

  Marco gently pushed her back. “Bella, no. Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  He tucked one of her stray bronze curls back behind her ear. “Kiss me when you want Phaidros. I’m your friend, Aelia, but I know your lips weren’t made for mine.”

  “Phaidros doesn’t want me. For a moment, I thought we could get past our hurt and anger, but I don’t know if we can. We’re already at each other’s throats again. I don’t know how to stop him from hating me.” She broke down into tears once more.

  “If he hated you, he wouldn’t have gone to Vienna. I doubt Alexis needed the backup. Phaidros was there for you. Talk to him, Aelia. Make him listen. Beat it into his stubborn head if you have to.”

  Aelia rested a warm palm against his cheek. “You’re a good man, Marco. You know that, right?”

  “I’m trying to be. I’ll always be here for you, my friend. Will you show me the way back to the others? Penelope will want to hear what happened with Kreios.”

  Aelia drained her martini. “Give me a moment to fix my face.”

  Marco watched her in the mirror, wondering what he was doing caught up between gods and magic, love and war—and how a human like him was going to survive it all.

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, the mood throughout the palazzo was quiet and subdued. Penelope had moved her box of Vatican research to the upstairs library and found a space on the upper mezzanine where she could keep an eye on Alexis and Constantine working beneath her.

  Penelope could feel Alexis’s anxiety radiating from him, even if he hadn’t expressed it out loud. It was better for both of them to keep each other in their eyeline, if only just for the day. He’d held her firmly the night before as he told her about Vienna and Penelope spoke about the mob in San Marco. He’d scared himself—the amount of magic he used had decimated the priests that had attacked Aelia’s home. He hadn’t meant to cause such destruction, but the high tide was making his magic more unpredictable than it had in centuries. Kreios’s warning that Penelope was in trouble had sent him over the edge and made him wild until he saw her safe at the police station. She’d never felt so loved, though his power frightened her as much as it moved her.

  Penelope tore her eyes away from Alexis and back to the book in her lap. She’d planned on working through the box of documents methodically, but the overstuffed manuscript had called out to her. Like in Rome, it had a feeling about it, like an aura of magic that made the Living Language in her spark with interest.

  Penelope had been flicking through the manuscript most of the morning. It was filled with recipes for beauty treatments and products like lipsticks, ways to help lactating mothers, and alchemy experiments. It was part diary, with notes and dates scrawled in the margins relating the efficacy of the recipe and sometimes who had given it to Caterina. In many ways, it reminded Penelope of Nereus’s journals of magic; it wasn’t pretty, but a private workbook filled with messy handwriting and diagrams. Penelope had no idea Caterina Sforza had been so into alchemy and science. She decided to take Carolyn’s evergreen advice, opened her web browser, and Googled Caterina Sforza Experimenti.

  “Okay, so you’re the only one who didn’t know she was an alchemist,” Penelope murmured to herself as she scrolled through articles and book links.


  By the end of the third article, Penelope had learned that the oldest version found of Caterina’s Gli Experimenti was a copy made by a friend of her son Giovanni, which meant Penelope was holding the original.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered, looking back at the manuscript. The other known copy was part of a private collection, so there was no time to track it down to compare the differences in versions, but it had to contain something important for the original to end up in a box in the Vatican Secret Archive.

  “What secrets are you hiding?” She leafed through the pages and soon found pages upon pages written in code. The Living Language had easily translated the Italian and Latin passages she’d read so far, but no matter how hard she stared at the code, it refused to translate. Penelope went back to the internet to see if the other copy had a code, and if some industrious scholar had cracked it for the benefit of all.

  Within the hour, Penelope learned that someone had indeed solved it, but no key or help sheet had been published for public use. She also learned that Caterina had only written in code if the alchemical experiment or recipe was important.

  Penelope groaned. “Great, so now I know for sure that it’s hiding something.”

  “How goes it, cara?” Alexis called from down below.

  “Caterina wrote in code, and the Living Language won’t translate it because it’s something she made up.” She got up and walked down the twisted wrought iron staircase to join him.

  Alexis’s frown deepened as she showed him the pages and filled him in on what she’d discovered. “I’m as puzzled as you, Pen. You had no problem translating Poseidon’s code in Nereus’s journals.”

  “Penelope’s magic was gifted to her by Nereus, who got hers from Poseidon, hence Penelope is wielding Poseidon’s magic and knows his writing,” Constantine said from his armchair. “This code is new, which is why she is unable to translate it.”

  “That’s a remarkably insightful explanation coming from you,” said Alexis.

  “I’ll try not to be offended by that. Did you think I wasn’t paying attention during all your rants about magic over the years?”

  “It still isn’t going to help me solve this code, no matter how insightful,” Penelope pointed out.

  Alexis rubbed his chin. “You have no choice but to ask Phaidros, cara. He corresponded with Caterina for many years and through all of her marriages. They may have used this code with each other.”

  “I don’t know if I should bother him. I don’t want to start another fight between him and Aelia.”

  “He’ll have to deal with it. This is more important than their lovers’ quarrels.” Constantine pointed to the far door. “He’s been sunning himself out there all morning, and now is the time for him to make himself useful.”

  With considerable reluctance, Penelope gathered up her notebook and the manuscript and went to search for Phaidros.

  PHAIDROS WASN’T as hard to find as Penelope thought he’d be. She only needed to follow the empty Peroni bottles that littered the lawn and gardens. He was lying face down on one of the white sun beds, and all Penelope could register was his bare, perfectly sculpted, golden ass.

  Penelope squealed. “Jesus! Would you mind throwing a towel over it?” She used the books to shield her red face.

  “You just wait until I roll over…” She could hear the lazy grin in his voice.

  “Please don’t do that. You have a lovely golden body, my dear Apollo, but I need to talk to you, and I don’t need to have my eyes assaulted by your manhood the whole time.”

  Penelope waited behind her books while Phaidros let out a groan, sat up, and hopefully wrapped a towel around his waist.

  “I’m presentable.”

  She peeked over the books to find him covered up and leaning back on the sun bed, sweating beer in hand. He looked like he was on a GQ shoot, unlike Penelope, who was already sweaty and uncomfortable. She sat in the shade and placed the books down beside her.

  “What’s all this homework you’ve brought with you? Don’t forget to enjoy the summer and live a little. Beer?” Phaidros passed her one before she could object.

  Penelope had a mouthful, and it was good after a morning with her head in books. “I need your help with something, and I don’t know if it’s going to upset you or not,” she said, trying for diplomacy first.

  “You know there isn’t much that upsets me, Penelope.”

  Except for Aelia, she almost said but managed to swallow the words. “It’s got to do with this manuscript we stole in Rome. It’s written in code, and I’m hoping you’ll understand it.” She put her beer down and dried her damp palms before opening to the page she’d bookmarked.

  Phaidros cracked one eye open and looked at what she was holding out to him. “I haven’t seen this for a good five hundred years.” He took it from her and placed it on his lap, his fingers gently running over the edges of the pages.

  “As I said, some of it is written in a code I don’t have the time to crack. Help me out?”

  “Why do you need to know what’s inside?”

  “Because it’s important somehow. Alexis, Zo, and I can all feel the magic on it. If the writing is personal, you don’t need to tell me what it says. I only want to know if it’s related to the ring of Solomon. Tim’s visions led us to this. It must mean something.”

  “I’ll help you if you stay out here and keep me company.” He offered her a persuasive smile.

  Penelope leaned back on her sun bed. “Fine, but you have to share your beers. You can make sense of that code, though, can’t you?”

  “Of course I can. Writing in code was about as close to privacy as you got in those days.”

  “I’m sorry if this gets you into more trouble with Aelia.”

  Phaidros’s laugh was bitter and dismissive. “You’ll soon learn that I’m always in trouble with Aelia. She has a very defined set of double standards I’m not sure we’ll ever get past. It’s fine for me to have to tolerate Constantine under my roof, but mention Caterina, and Aelia is ready to burn the world,” he said, though his eyes remained on the writing in front of him.

  “Aelia can’t really hate a dead woman so much just because she loved you when she was alive.”

  “There are a lot of reasons, and none of them are worth bringing up. Suffice to say, Caterina was formidable and intimidating to men and women alike. Love and women are complicated, and I’ve never made it easy for myself by falling in love with someone with a gentle or submissive spirit. You don’t need to look so concerned, Penelope. Aelia and I have fought worse than this. It was a good excuse for her to run into the arms of Marco Dandolo without a guilty conscience, so she got what she wanted. She always does.”

  The large number of empty beer bottles around him was starting to make more sense. Marco had told Penelope what happened between him and Aelia the night before, but Phaidros had seen the two of them together and jumped to all the wrong conclusions.

  “Nothing is going on between Aelia and Marco. You don’t need to worry about that. He’s her friend and nothing more. He knows a lost cause when he sees it.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Really? Because from where I’m sitting, all she wants is you, and you’re both too full of your own bullshit to give it a chance.” Phaidros looked astonished at her outburst, but she wasn’t even a little bit done. “What? You think I’m going to act like Nereus and everyone else and stay silent and not call you out on your crap? We could all die fighting Thevetat. If we live, the magic maintaining your long life spans might give out, and you’ll be mortal again. One life left, Phaidros. Is it really worth risking never being together because of your damn pride?”

  “Zo always said you have ovaries of steel, Penelope. It seems—”

  Something on the page caught his eye. He sat up and ran his finger over a line of code, his lips moving silently.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s an experiment and part of a letter with one of her friends at La Murate
. It was a nunnery in Florence that was well known for their healing remedies, amongst other things. They are talking about a ring of Girolamo’s—”

  “Do you think it’s Solomon’s?”

  “Shhh, let me concentrate.”

  She leaned back with a huff as Phaidros lost himself in his dead lover’s writing.

  PENELOPE WOKE in the late afternoon, her journal on her lap. Alexis was now sitting on Phaidros’s vacated sun bed, staring at the boats on the water. When he sensed her watching him, he reached over to trail his fingers over her arm.

  She tucked a loose hair behind her ear. “I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

  “Beer and sun will do that. I told Phaidros not to wake you. You needed the sleep.”

  “So do you.”

  He moved so he could crouch beside her and put an arm around her. The hardness that had been in his indigo eyes the past few days seemed to crack at whatever he saw in her face.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Sometimes, I still struggle to believe you’re here, that’s all.” He kissed her gently. “You make me grateful even in an apocalypse.”

  “We haven’t hit the apocalypse yet, my love.” Penelope pulled him down to her, hand creeping under his shirt to touch his bare skin.

  “If you two can wrap it up, I have something to show you.” Phaidros moved Penelope’s legs to one side and sat down.

  “You really need to learn about personal space, Phaidros,” Penelope complained as Alexis moved off her.

  “Don’t forget you’re the one that asked for my help.”

  Alexis sat opposite them. “You’d better have something important to show us.”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. You were right, Penelope. It was the ring of Solomon.” Phaidros passed her a stack of papers. “I’ve been translating the pages for you.”

  “Caterina had it, and you never noticed?” Alexis asked, dumbfounded.

  “You knew Caterina—she was always working on something. Trying to keep up with her alchemy as well as her politics would’ve been a full-time job. She was always trading secrets and recipes with her friends throughout Europe. The nuns at La Murate would supply her with herbs and know-how. She wanted to be left alone to focus on healing and alchemy; that’s why she retired there at the end of her life.” Sadness crept into Phaidros’s voice, but he seemed to shake it off as he opened to a page of Gli Experimenti where a letter had been pasted in. “This letter discusses the ring. Caterina knew Sixtus had given it to Girolamo from the Vatican collection and suspected its origins. She asked the nuns what they knew of its powers.”