The Fifth Moon's Wife (The Fifth Moon Tales Book 2)

by Monica La Porta

  “If Master Lobo or I solely provide the ships for the patrol fleet, it would create a conflict of interest,” Dragon said.

  Rado nodded, bringing a hand to his chin and caressing his braided beard. He waited a moment before adding, “That could be easily solved by putting the fleet under an impartial committee that would serve the greater good of the whole community.”

  Valentine had known all along where the discussion would end and also where it would lead next.

  “I would gladly offer my time and experience to lead the patrol fleet.” Rado bowed to the assembly, eliciting an applause that sounded as rehearsed as his speech.

  “This is great fun,” Dragon said in a whisper that only Valentine could hear.

  “After the fifth decade, it becomes quite trite,” Valentine responded in kind while the rest of the room discussed the point raised by Rado.

  “Do we let them go on?” Dragon asked with one corner of his mouth lifted.

  “Nah. I have no time to waste on such nonsense,” he answered Dragon, then out loud he said, “Let’s vote.” Pushing his chair backward, he unfurled to his full height and looked down at the table. “No.”

  Dragon raised one hand. “No.”

  There were several yeses, followed by enough negative votes to invalidate Rado’s motion.

  The merchant gave Valentine a venomous look, then stood as well. “Let’s adjourn the session.”

  “Excellent idea.” Dragon gave the man a pat on his shoulder and moved out of his chair as well.

  Valentine was already at the door when the Solarian gestured for him to wait.

  “I have tidings,” Dragon said.

  Valentine kept the door open for him, and they both exited into the hallway. The Commerce House’s roof was made of glass and the corridor jutted over the street, several meters below.

  Valentine led his guest away from the chamber and into the glass nook, from where he observed the buzzing city life. Several sports aircars flew by, racing each other in blatant disrespect of Adris’s traffic regulations. The drivers were young and reckless, as he had once been.

  “It’s about your ship?” Valentine asked.

  Dragon nodded. “Your team just confirmed that the engine was tampered with.”

  Swearing under his breath, Valentine pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “It wasn’t me.”

  “I know you want me far away from Lupine.” Dragon laughed. “But who wants me to remain here and why?”

  Chapter Seven

  Mirella let out a joyous laugh. She couldn’t remember when she had felt so light. Long before she met Valentine. The preparation for her marriage had occupied the best part of her last ten years, and all of a sudden she couldn’t wait to be outside the confines of her familial house and be fifteen years old again.

  A few servants saw them running toward the rear exit, the one the help and the vendors used, but they didn’t dare say anything. Everyone in the house was used to the sisters’ riotous ways.

  Once Mirella stepped out of the door and into the street, she looked behind at her sisters and said, “I’ll race you to the sugarpop stall.” Sprinting ahead with the hem of her riding habit in her hand, she heard Lucilla and Vera giggle.

  The heels of her leather boots were thin and threatened to get caught between the worn cobblestone grout lines, but Mirella marched on. Once or twice, she flapped her arms, stabilizing herself enough to keep running. The motorized, striped umbrellas covering the stalls were soon in sight, and with them the smell of fritters and otherworldly spices.

  The Public Market was a hub connecting Laguna with the Religious District and the Commercial District. Old and new collided in the colorful borough that housed the majority of the stores and eateries in Adris. Merchants from all over the Coral System sold their wares there, and there wasn’t a better place to find the latest trends in food or fashion.

  At the market’s ironwork gate, Mirella paused a moment to breathe, then she raised her gown’s hem higher and resumed her race. She raced around customers and the few obsolete mechanical workers still serving as custodians and haulers. The workers’ gears were tarnished and their clockwork engines were slow, giving the metal bodies halting movements. Their vocal boxes still functioned though, and the market was filled with their chirpings that intoned old ballads.

  A few pedestrians turned their heads at Mirella’s passage, and some of the mechanical workers repositioned their long limbs to avoid hitting her.

  “Is that the Blessed Bride?” A voice rose above the din, followed by others asking the same question.

  The sugarpop stall in sight, Mirella didn’t mind them. She looked over her shoulder to check if her sisters were behind. Lucilla and Vera were huffing and puffing, leaving a wide trail in their wake, but closing the distance. Mirella redoubled her efforts and sprinted the last few meters, touching her hand to the stall’s wooden frame with a loud exclamation of victory. Her mother would have thought Mirella rather unladylike in her exuberance, but she hadn’t felt such carefree happiness in a long while and savored the moment.

  “One bowl of passionberry sugarpop, please,” she said to the gangly youth behind the counter. Then she pivoted on her heels and eyed her sisters, who were panting a few steps behind. “My treat.” She cocked her chin toward the window box where the various sugarpop flavors were displayed in refrigerated containers.

  “Candied violet,” Lucilla said, with one hand pressed over her waist to catch her breath.

  Vera raised one finger. “Red lavender, please.”

  From nearby, a woman called, “Blessed Bride!”

  Mirella slightly tilted her head and smiled, before turning toward the stall.

  The young man’s eyes widened, while a blush crept up his smooth cheeks. “It will be my pleasure to serve the Blessed Bride.” He then eyed her sisters who were making a ruckus to get his attention. “And the Blessed Bride’s companions, of course.” With a shaky hand, the boy scooped generous portions of the sweet concoction and filled three glass bowls to their brims. He then plucked three passionberry flowers from one of the potted plants sitting on the counter and decorated the treats with them. “On the house,” he said, pushing the bowls with three long spoons toward Mirella and her sisters.

  “I can’t accept.” Mirella’s hand went to the beaded purse she carried like a shoulder bag.

  “Please.” Shaking his head, the young man waved his hands in front of him. “It’s an honor to serve the Blessed Bride.”

  “Thank you.” Mirella took her bowl and brought a spoonful of the melting sugarpop to her lips. Closing her eyes, she tasted the cold treat trickling down past her tongue. “It is as good as I remembered, if not better. I used to come here all the time when I was younger.”

  “My pa left the shop to me.” The boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

  “You are doing a great job. Your sugarpop is excellent. Thank you again for the treat.” Mirella gave the boy one last nod, then laced her free hand with Vera’s.

  “Let’s sit,” Lucilla said, and they walked toward the benches surrounding a mammoth tree.

  The willowy branches looped low to the ground, creating a natural gazebo that would shield them from prying eyes. Mirella sat on the bench, resting her back against the smooth trunk of the tree. A gentle breeze moved the heart-shaped red leaves with a hypnotic quality.

  “So, about what happened at the manor—” Lucilla said when she had eaten half of her bowl.

  Resigned that her moment of peace had ended, Mirella put down her sugarpop. “What do you want to know?”

  Vera turned sideways on the bench to better look at Mirella. “Is it true that your husband found you completely naked in Dragon’s bed?”

  “True.” Mirella didn’t want to relive the facts, but she knew her sisters wouldn’t leave her alone before their curiosity was satiated. “I was drugged and so was Dragon. Valentine went to my room, looking for me and instead found a letter from Dragon.”

  “
The High Lord wrote you a letter? What for?” In the excitement, Lucilla almost spilled some of her sugarpop.

  Mirella steadied her sister’s hand. “No, he didn’t. Someone else did it to make it look like Dragon was inviting me to visit him.”

  “Is it true that you stopped them from killing each other?” Vera asked.

  With a nod, Mirella took a few spoonfuls before answering. “True. I ran into the arena and put myself between Valentine and Dragon.”

  “Weren’t you scared?” Lucilla hugged herself.

  “I was beyond scared. I was terrified and I couldn’t prove that we had been drugged.”

  “So what happened?” Lucilla’s eyes were big.

  “I knelt before my husband and asked him if he needed proof to know the truth.”

  “You really did that?” Vera whispered.

  “I did.” Mirella shivered. If she closed her eyes, she was back there in the arena, waiting for her fate to unfold.

  “And Lobo believed you—” Lucilla said, wonderment shining in her eyes.

  “His electric saber nicked my skin first.” Mirella’s hand went to her chest where the sharp point had drawn blood. “But afterward, Valentine took me in his arms.”

  “He did that in front of the entire arena?” Vera asked.

  Mirella nodded, blinking away a tear. The moment Valentine’s eyes had widened and he looked at her with acceptance would be forever etched in her mind. His strong arms had circled her as he brought her closer to his chest, enveloping her in a desperate embrace that had spoken his sentiments more than words could ever convey.

  “He must be very much in love with you.” Lucilla’s words startled Mirella.

  “My husband hasn’t shared his bed with me since then,” she found herself saying.

  “You mean—?” Lucilla raised an eyebrow.

  Vera gave Lucilla an annoyed stare and said, “What do you think it means?”

  Shrugging, Lucilla asked, “But why? I mean the man trusted her word even before she could prove she was innocent. It means he’s besotted with her, doesn’t it?”

  “And yet, we haven’t…” Mirella blushed. “He hasn’t—” She breathed in and out, then steadied her voice. “He doesn’t seem to be interested in getting me with child.”

  “Oh—” Vera twisted her mouth into a grimace.

  “I don’t want to lose him.” The sweet treat all but forgotten, Mirella worried the fabric of her gown with her hands. “For all the lessons I received, I don’t know how to seduce my husband.” She looked down at the creased fabric.

  “Hmm.” Vera drummed her fingers over the edge of the bench.

  “What are you thinking?” Lucilla asked while Mirella looked up into Vera’s mischievous eyes.

  “I’ve been reading those books Mrs. Claretta made you study—” Vera started, but at seeing Mirella’s surprised expression, she hastily added, “Hopefully, I’ll be marrying soon, and there’s no sense in wasting good textbooks.”

  “What are you suggesting she do?” Lucilla resumed eating from her bowl of sugarpop.

  “She could wear special jewelry—” Vera gave Mirella one of her knowing stares. “I read that men like to watch their lovers pleasuring themselves.”

  Mirella immediately understood what kind of jewelry her sister was referring too. Her face was on fire before she could stutter a comment. “I don’t even know where to start looking for such an item,” she finally said.

  Eyes alight with anticipation, Vera looked over her shoulder. “But I do.” Then she collected the glass bowls from both Mirella and Lucilla, dropped them at the sugarpop stall, and called for her sisters to follow her.

  “Where are you taking me?” Mirella asked a few minutes later, after Vera had dragged them deep into the bowels of the market.

  The stalls they had passed were manned mostly by ladies wearing scandalous dresses in gaudy colors. The wares hawked were as colorful as the peddlers.

  “Ars Amandi perfume!” A woman with a fiery-red wig shook a glass vial in front of Mirella. “Your lover will never want to leave your bed.” In front of her, there were ampoules, bottles, and jars filled with a sloshing substance that glowed with a rainbow hue when she passed her hands over them.

  Lucilla pushed Mirella forward, trying to keep up with Vera, who was two stalls ahead of them.

  “Over there,” Vera announced, pointing at the roofed portion of the market that contained the hidden part where people went to buy items they couldn’t find anywhere else.

  Behind them, the fake redhead shouted for all to hear, “It’s the Blessed Bride!”

  Growing more and more uneasy with being recognized, Mirella followed her sister into the hidden market, hoping to become invisible under the shadows cast by the ironwork ceiling. Inside, the hidden market was chaotic. The place was filled with people, either selling or buying, and mechanical workers that seemed to wander through the busy alleys without a goal.

  Instead of stalls covered by umbrellas, here there were small shops. The smells of incense and spices mixed with other scents Mirella couldn’t identify. White puffs of smoke billowed into the air, filling her nostrils with sweet aromas.

  “Don’t inhale,” Vera warned both her sisters.

  Mirella coughed when the sweet smoke reached the back of her throat. “What is it?”

  “Enhancers,” Vera answered, then added with a wink, “With a husband like yours, you don’t need them though.” She redoubled her pace until she stopped before a shop with a clockwork banner over the door.

  Mirella stepped inside after Vera and her eyes widened at the display of clockwork art. She couldn’t help but think that Valentine would have loved that shop. Miniature figurines moved all over the place. Little ballerinas danced over rotating disks, and animals played, barked, and ran all over the counter. On the walls, clockwork paintings narrated stories in never-ending loops, while magnifying mirrors showed faraway planets.

  Behind the counter, a slender woman wearing a black suit and a black riding hat was busy repairing a mechanical worker. “What can I help you with?” the woman asked, raising to her eye the monocle she had dangling from a chain. She didn’t look at Mirella and her sisters, but kept tinkering with the metal arm of the mechanical worker.

  “We are here for the jewels—” Vera started.

  “Necklaces, bracelets, rings?” The woman sprayed the gears with oil. “Earrings perhaps?” she added when nobody answered the first time.

  “Not that kind of jewelry,” Vera said.

  Finally, the woman lowered the monocle and turned on her swiveling stool to face them. Her eyes zeroed on Mirella, who blushed deeply. “I see.” With a push of her foot, she wheeled the stool to the end of the counter, bent to retrieve a flat wooden box, then addressed Mirella. “Made by the great clockwork artist Mistral. All the pieces are one of a kind.” She opened the box to show what at first glance looked like a collection of butterflies. She caressed the wings of one of the butterflies, and the lifelike sculpture moved, setting in motion the others as well. Soon, a swarm of wings in every hue of blue and purple hovered over the surface of the counter.

  “You are a newlywed,” the woman stated, picking the only white butterfly among the collection that had remained hidden under the fluttering wings.

  The delicate sculpture moved from the woman’s hand to Mirella’s and settled over her finger.

  “The body is made of platinum, the gears are part metal and part turquoise from Solaria, as you can see from the glass window on its torso. Small diamonds are woven through the wings of this exceptional piece of art,” the woman explained as the butterfly’s feelers tickled Mirella’s skin. “No one was as skilled and tasteful as Mistral when it came to personal jewelry.”

  Feeling the soft massage of the clockwork’s antennae deepening on her skin, Mirella blushed again. The probing butterfly’s touches were stimulating her imagination, and she hastily extended her hand toward the woman to release the shiny insect.

  “It
will be the perfect present for your wolf, Blessed Bride. Master Lobo was Mistral’s most generous patron when the artist was alive,” the woman said with a smile, then reached for a carved wooden box. “I’ll make a gift package for you and I’ll send it directly to Lobo Manor.” She nested the butterfly in a cocoon of crimson velvet that accentuated the sparkle from the diamonds.

  The clockwork wings flattened against the soft fabric, and with a final whirring the mechanical wonder turned off.

  Distressed by being recognized once again and by the new tidbit about her husband, Mirella brought her beaded purse forward to pay for her purchase.

  The woman halted Mirella with a shake of her head. “Master Lobo has an open line of credit with us. I’ll bill him directly.”

  Mirella thanked the woman then pivoted on her heels and left the store. Her sisters happily chatted a step behind.

  “I think that every woman should have personal jewelry,” Vera said, catching up with Mirella and linking her arm with hers.

  “It did look pretty—” Lucilla chuckled.

  Flustered, Mirella sped her pace to exit the shadows of the hidden market. The spices and the enhancers in the air made breathing a difficult task, and she soon was lightheaded. At the sight of the black and gold ironwork gate, she found the energy to jog only to find the exit obstructed.

  Mechanical workers were herding two floating carts toward the gate, while a third was passing through, its vocal box belting out a festive jingle. The worker’s melody was completely out of tune, and the nearby clockwork helpers soon sang it in a discordant concert. A few vendors pushed through the workers to cross the gate, contributing to the chaos. A wall of bodies and loud noise filled Mirella’s already overwhelmed senses as she tried to tune out the cacophony and find a way through the passage.

  Being the only way in and out of the hidden market, in a matter of seconds, more people gathered before the gate, pulling and pushing to reach their destinations on either side. She didn’t like crowds, but wanted to leave the place and got in line behind three tall vendors. Soon, there were as many people behind her as they were in front, trapping her and her sisters in the slow-moving procession.