The woven shadows sliced in half like a separated seam. One hairy hand with long, dirty nails birthed itself from the slit into reality. Another hand, and then the head, woolly hair, small horns, eyes at strange angles. Long, muscular arms, bare waist and midriff descending into goat legs. The shadows Octavia held firm writhed and quivered and sparks followed, heat and flame, sultry spice.
Khun’s hooves clattered on the stone floor. Octavia clapped her hands together and the shadow strand dissolved with terrible whines and whispers.
It would never do to trust Khun. Demons were devious liars by nature and Khun was a seducer. Already Khun was shifting into a more pleasant form. His new face looked more like Drusus’ than it used to, as if he thought he could curry Octavia’s favor.
“My lady.” Khun’s voice dripped honey and rose water. He bowed his head, his smile a courteous mask. Octavia wished she was as good at hiding her emotions as Khun. She wished he could be with her all the time, like the old days before the Trial. Having him with her was familiar. He never doubted her.
“Your smile is just like his,” Drusus remarked.
“Really?” Well, it was natural Binders would pick up their demon’s traits, for better or worse. Drusus had better accept that.
“You have summoned me, my lady,” said Khun. “How may I serve?” His hand reached toward Octavia, stopping just short of the circle.
“You know better,” said Drusus.
Khun’s voice had an angry edge. “Octavia knows better. I would never harm her. Does she know that about you?”
“You had best remember your place,” said Drusus. “Calling your mistress by her name. Insolence.”
“I know where my place is,” said Khun, his eyes rising to Octavia’s for a second. “I do, certainly. How may I serve?”
“Lucy has disappeared and we need you to help us find her.” Octavia took a breath and peeled her eyes from Khun’s chest, no doubt made more handsome by an appealing illusion. “Do you have any news of Ra?”
“We in the Abyss cannot see the actions of those of us who walk the Earth, as you know.”
Octavia knew. “Lucy has left us. I would like you to bring her home. Ra may fight you.”
“I look forward to it,” said Khun. “Fighting for you.”
Octavia focused on her commands, not on Khun’s husky voice, and tried again. “You need to bring Lucy back safely for her Trial. Whatever else you find, I trust you to deal with it.”
Drusus cleared his throat, and Octavia turned to her scowling husband.
“Is it wise?” said Drusus. “To turn him loose like that?”
“Khun knows my wishes.”
“Oh yes,” said Khun. “Do not worry,” he addressed Drusus. “There are rules I cannot break. Like yourself, I do not relish harming innocence.”
Octavia’s lips were dry. “Venice. She’s in Venice. Go and find her.”
More hot, sultry wind. Khun ripped reality open anew, climbed through the rent, and disappeared. The seam sealed itself back into regular air and tomb.
“There,” said Octavia. “It’s only a matter of time now. We should be able to continue on as planned.”
Drusus gestured, and a softer breeze blew the protective circle to the crypt edges. Octavia retrieved her bonnet from the shelf and used the reflection in a pink marble square to tie her ribbons just so. When she turned, she smiled at Drusus in what she hoped was a placating manner. He was rigid again, his arms crossed, his back straight.
“You’re angry,” she said. She stepped toward him and placed a hand on his cheek.
“Of course.” He brushed her hand away.
“Why?”
“I should think my reasons would be obvious.”
“What do you mean? Are you going to be angry every time I use my magic? Every time I am myself?”
Drusus’ fists clenched. “Enough. I intend to find Lucy on my own.”
“Drusus, Khun will find her in a much shorter time, and—” She had to watch what she said. You will only be in the way? Khun may have to do things you do not want to see? These were not diplomatic reasons to give.
“I will not leave Lucy to the tender mercies of your gentleman demon. Lucy doesn’t deserve to be hunted like a rabbit and shaken by a mad dog, or to be killed by any of you.”
“If you think Ra will let anything happen to Lucy before the Trial, you are mistaken. Khun will bring her back to us. If someone is harming Lucy, they deserve to be shaken by my mad dog. Khun did not lie to you. He doesn’t harm innocents.”
“I wonder how you can believe him. He’s a demon.”
“He’s my demon. He wouldn’t lie to me.” It sounded naive even as she spoke it, but she and Khun had an understanding. “I know he will do as I say.”
Drusus’ laugh told her he didn’t believe her either. “And yet in spite of your knight errant, I will go.”
“You don’t trust him.”
“I don’t trust you or Khun. What’s to keep you from having Khun kill Lucy before her Trial? Murder is all your family talks about. It would save you grief and guilt.”
The words poured from her. “Drusus, listen. When Lucy loses, I will not be killing her. Ra will have destroyed her soul, not me. Lucy will be Ra’s tool. I will be killing Ra and saving Lucy. Do you understand?”
Drusus rubbed his forehead. “Honestly. I didn’t know what to expect from being married to you, Octavia. We were doing well enough, but I didn’t expect your plan to kill your sister. This reality is not conducive to… a relationship.”
“No. It isn’t. But then, we are not an ordinary couple, are we?”
“Your family makes unreasonable demands on anyone,” said Drusus. “More on you than they have a right to. Regardless of what you think, you don’t have to kill Lucy.”
Drusus’ words stabbed into her center. No matter. She smiled, wide and expansive, like Khun had taught her from the earliest age. “When we met,” said Octavia, “they told you I would inherit Solomon’s Scroll. When my father passes, I am the head of the family. Of course you are important to me, but I have duties, obligations.”
“In other words, your family is more important, and you must have heirs, so here I am. I thought we would get beyond our superficial alliance to a real marriage.”
Octavia’s ringlets bobbed as she tilted her head. “I must do what must be done. Why, Drusus, do you and my familial duties have to be in conflict? Do you have to set my family against yourself?”
Drusus took a deep breath. “It is impossible for me to be involved with any people who presume to kill for the flimsiest of reasons.”
Octavia’s cheeks were blue with anger. “Possession is hardly a flimsy reason. I have tried to explain this to you. I don’t know how I can make it any clearer.”
Drusus ran a hand through his hair. “I understand your words. I do not understand your ability to contemplate such an action.”
Octavia’s voice rose. “If you like, dear heart, it is because we Klaereons are aligned with the Abyss and ordinary morality no longer applies to us. We murder with reckless abandon. Everything the other magical families say about us is true.”
“You know I can’t stand it when you take that tone of voice with me. It reminds me of—”
“Of Khun? Since I’ve spent my life with Khun, you shouldn’t be surprised. This isn’t about Lucy, is it? It’s about jealousy, how I have to share my life with another man.”
“That thing is not a man.”
“That thing only comes when I summon it. Since we have been married, I summon him as little as possible.” At great personal cost to my own well being.
“Then you are determined to kill your sister?”
“No. I am determined to save Lucy’s soul.”
Drusus ground his jaw. “How would you know about Lucy’s soul, since you are a woman without one?” He took his jacket from an alcove. “Mrs. Claudian, I am going to find your sister. I am going to make sure she wins her Trial. I am going to make sure not
hing happens to any Venetians accidentally involved in the sad drama of your family. You may do as you please and go where you please, as long as it has nothing to do with me.”
Octavia stepped toward him. “I thought you would understand. The Claudians themselves have certain rituals. You knew about the Trials and the possibilities.”
“You’re equating murder with tradition? No, Octavia, I didn’t know.” Drusus straightened his jacket. “You chose not to tell me the truth until yesterday. You lied to me by omission. How could anyone understand this? I am sorry, but you and I appear to have made a mistake by marrying. I am sure arrangements can be made when we return home to rectify it.” He headed into the church.
“Drusus!” Octavia followed him. “Stop! Listen! I don’t want to kill her! There will be no choice!” Octavia caught her foot on an uneven tile in the floor and fell. “Drusus!”
Drusus did not turn back. Her hands were scraped, her dress ripped. She fought her way to her feet and limped back to the tomb. Alone, picking up the pieces. She stored her regret in her stone center and blinked tears away. Why did he care so much for Lucy and so little for her, his wife? He had married the wrong sister. Did he love Lucy? Her thoughts recoiled. How could anyone love Lucy?
“My lady.” Khun stood before her. No dramatic entrance, a silhouette in the candlelight.
Octavia rounded on him. “I thought I told you to go! How dare you disobey me!”
“I will,” said Khun. “I thought you might have need of me?”
Oh, she did. She did not need this temptation now, not when she wanted to wound Drusus in any way she could. “No,” she said.
“You are angry with me?” Khun stepped closer, and Octavia took a step away. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“Of course it does. It can’t be any other way. I’m married now.”
His face transformed, looking less like Drusus and more like his own rough-hewn visage. “My lady, our time together is too short for us to pretend we have no feelings for each other.”
She rooted herself to the spot, made her emotions immoveable. “My feelings for you are only in your imagination. Do as I say.”
He bowed, a short bob from his waist, eyes dark like an animal’s. “I obey you in all things.” His smile was courtesy and his eyes became sly. “All things.” He walked into a corner and faded into the darkness.
She collected his residual magic on her fingers tips and touched her fingers to her lips; his musky odor. Every time she summoned him, she came closer to yielding. No one told her temptation didn’t disappear after the Trial.
The Great Hall of Mistraldol was lit with candles to add ceremony to the wedding breakfast. An unnecessary extravagance, but an opulent one that showed the Klaereons had no financial issue with burning candles during the day. The Claudians would not be impressed, as they were given to capturing lightning to illuminate their homes. There was beauty in flame because it created shadows. The Klaereons had an affinity for light precisely because it created dark.
Octavia and Drusus sat side by side at the wedding breakfast. Octavia was dressed in black. Drusus’ mother had been shocked. More like a funeral than a wedding, Octavia heard her mother-in-law whisper to Drusus’ father. An alliance with a Klaereon was something Octavia knew Mrs. Claudian did not want for her son. It was an eligible match, however. Drusus was the third son. When Father presented Drusus as a likely candidate, Octavia was assured this was a man who would not inherit his own estate and would welcome marrying into the Klaereon one. It would be a greater position of power than he could hope for on his own. He would not become master of the estate, given he was not a Binder. It was more like being a consort. His children would inherit.
They met when he had come in the door not fifteen minutes prior. She had not expected someone so handsome. The two elder brothers were not much to look at. They didn’t resemble this tall man with his tousled brown hair and a storm in his brown eyes, which blackened when he paid attention to her. He smiled often, and she found his smile infectious. His grin was self-assured, but cautious. He was trying to put her at ease, she could tell. She appreciated the effort.
She found her hands wrapped in the tablecloth again, and she unfurled them.
Lucy sat at the end of the table. She was sitting on two books so she was at the same level as everyone else. She studied her silverware and her plates and gazed at the centerpiece, flowers and whole pears glazed in sugar. All the people at the table chatted. Lucy did not have a dining partner.
Drusus’ smile peeked at Lucy, like the sun. She smiled back, a tiny wisp, like vanishing smoke, and Octavia felt a flicker of gratitude toward her betrothed. After breakfast, they would go to the parish and sign their alliance in the Hathersage registry. Then she would be married. At this moment, she would forget the past. There was only the future, and she was determined to be a good wife.
Drusus leaned over and whispered to her, “How are you?”
“I am happy,” she said.
He gave her hand a small squeeze. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m quite nervous, Miss Klaereon.”
“Why?” Octavia picked up her spoon as oatmeal was placed in front of her.
Drusus turned slightly pink. “I did not expect my new bride to be so beautiful. I knew she was accomplished and was considered a beauty, but nothing prepared me for when I would meet her.”
Octavia stirred her oatmeal. “I regret you choose to start our life together with bold-faced flattery.”
“Hmm.” Drusus grabbed a container of jam and offered it to her. “Flattery, you say. Can you tell whether someone is telling the truth or not, then?”
“That is not one of my talents.”
“I can assure you I am most sincere, although I am certain I lack the ability to convince you of it.”
Octavia laughed a little. She spooned jam into her bowl. There would be wonders to come. They could be equals. Khun always knew more than she did and made her feel like a child. Not this man. “I like you too, Mr. Claudian. I think we will be most happy together.”
Metal clattered on the floor and a bowl shattered. Octavia glanced at the end of the table. Lucy’s sleeves were covered in oatmeal. Ra perched on her chair and blood blossomed from the slash on her cheek.
Father’s look was sharp.
Drusus rose from his chair and ran to the end of the table, holding his napkin. He knelt to Lucy’s level and pressed it to her snowy face. Her skin tinted blue.
“Let me help you,” Drusus said.
“Drusus,” said Mr. Claudian, “that is not appropriate.”
“No,” said Lucy, so meekly Octavia could barely hear her. “Excuse me.” She slid off the chair and left the hall, Ra fluttering behind her. He landed on Lucy’s shoulder and Octavia winced as his claws tore through her sister’s dress.
You see how weak she is. You should take me, Octavia.
Octavia placed her hands over her ears to shut out Ra’s voice. Drusus was back by her side. His eyes searched hers and she shook her head. Gently, she placed her hands in her lap. “The glass startled me.”
Caius Klaereon soothed at his guests. “My apologies. My youngest is simple.”
CHAPTER SIX
Venice surrounding the barracks next to San Marco had been preserved as a war zone to remind the Venetians they were a conquered people. The tourists loved it, as it was a prime example of Venice’s decay from when it was the merchant scourge of the seas to its impotent present. So it was sometimes travelers to Venice could find husks of buildings they romanticized, scorched and abandoned. The area right around the palazzo was not safe at night for the unaccompanied. Dark alleys provided excellent niches for thieves.
The impoverished occupied these buildings until they were discovered by peace-keeping Austrians and moved along. Left behind in the district were shells of previous businesses, like the apothecary Paolo used to own on the main square. The building Lucy, Carlo, and Paolo stood near was a dusty gray marble, previously magnificent, but
now with crumbling ledges and main doors locked with rusty chains. The doors were scarred with deep scratches from forcible entry. Like many buildings in Venice, there were elaborate carvings on the walls. Three suns topped columns standing a short space from the facade. One pillar was cracked, its crowning sun crumbled into pieces around its base. The windows of a balcony were broken, like ice after a thaw. Lucy could just make out a dome peeking over the ceiling top, glass and metal crushed, a soufflé fallen flat.
“What is this place?” she asked.
“It’s Nonno’s old store,” said Carlo. “The army let him keep what’s left of it. We leave things for the Austrians here since it’s close to their barracks.”
“Serpentine, this morning,” said Paolo.
Lucy looked blankly at Carlo.
“Gunpowder to you. Cakes for cannons.”
“You can make gunpowder?” asked Lucy.
“And cough drops,” said Carlo.
Paolo rocked from heel to toe, waiting for them to finish. “Once this building was my glory. Now, Carlo, he is my glory. Shall we go inside?”
“Is it safe?” asked Lucy. It looked less sturdy than the tomb of Erasmus, at least from what she’d heard.
“As safe as any circumstance you have found yourself in so far,” said Paolo.
“He means no,” said Carlo.
Paolo led them around the back to an alley. Lucy imagined the shadows whispering, speaking of lives cut short, of violence and war. She swallowed. Ra’s head perked up and she could feel him drinking in the pain. “Stop it,” she said.
Carlo paused. “Stop?”
“Not you. Ra. People died here?”
“So many people,” said Paolo. “The occupations have not been entirely bloodless and the poverty around us is full of blood.”
“Can you feel that?” said Carlo.
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